Star Wars: Harbinger of Unpredictability
by KtyouUniverse
Summary: My name is not important, but I am called Archangel. For as long as I can remember, I have been fighting. The Empire considers me a terrorist, and wants me dead. I fight alone. I have for eight years, but when forced to work with people who share my disliking of the Empire, I relive memories that I would rather be left in the dust of the past. Rated T for mild themes and language.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: My Name is Archangel

Core World

Correlian Sector

Correlia

3648 ATC

My eyes watch the street of the the Correlian night. I watch from a place both obvious and hidden, as I observe, wait, and analyze everything that happens. I have no weapon in my hand, nor do I appear to have any weapons visible, but that is my secret. I do not need a weapon. I have other things at my disposal that does not require me to carry any sort of weapons on my persons. Anyone with an obvious weapon is a fool. A true warrior does not give his enemies any sort of advantage. It is in a warrior's best interest to use every single skill, tactic, and dirty trick in their arsenal to win against an enemy. That also includes mental combat.

I watch as normal citizens, law abiding, follow the rules that dictate their every move, their every word, and their every action. I pity them. Rules, morals, and ethics are for the fearful, the weak, and the unintelligent. These things hold back a person's true potential, prevent them from becoming the superior being that they could be. I, myself, am not bound by law. I am not bound by laws. I break the laws as I see fit. I do not follow morals taught by society. I teach myself morals based on what I see in the galaxy. I have ethics that are based on facts, not feelings or emotions. I serve justice wherever I see fit. There are those who deserve a second chance, and there are those that are not worthy of life and should have never been born or created into existence.

I kill without mercy, without hesitation, and without regret. To be unwilling to kill is a weakness, a sign of pacifism, of an unwillingness to do what is necessary. Killing, however, is not always the means to achieve the optimal results. It is merely one path to take, and all options should be considered.

I am called many things. I am called a terrorist by the Empire. I am called a savior by the people. I am called a loose cannon by the Imperial Senate. I am called the hardest bounty in the galaxy to capture by the Hutt Cartel. I am called a brother by my fellow Mandalorians in Clan Kilon. I am called all of these things, and I am well aware of all of these names, but labels have no meaning to me. I am whomever I choose to be. I am a bounty hunter killing or capturing targets. I am hacker, finding the dirtiest secrets of everyone and compiling them. I am an assassin, beyond invisible, and deadly without having to put much effort. I am a brother who has an adopted sister and parents. I am human by default, but my genetics show that I am anything but human. I am so many things that even now, I struggle to comprehend the randomness of my existence, how I came into being, how long I have existed, and when I will cease to exist.

I am not afraid of death. I am not afraid of anything. The only thing there is to fear is nothing at all. Whenever I have been close to death's door, I have spit in its face, and looked it straight in the eye. Death, in turn, stares me in the eyes, and we battle for whoever can hold the gaze longer. Death fights with an unrelenting power, and I fight with a patience that knows no bounds. No matter how many times death tries to claim me, to take my life, I have always returned stronger, and with a new lesson learned.

Once my scanners have found me an access point into the Imperial database, I begin to slide down the building that I stand on, making sure that my sounds are minimalistic as possible. I cannot change this operation going the wrong way, or I risk losing the payment, and I do not take failure lightly. I can feel the wind as it flies by me. It's exhilarating, blood-rushing, and scary. I lied about not having any fears. I have fears like anyone else, but as I said before, death is not one of them, but for some odd reason, falling from death-causing distances does give me jitters. Call it a birth defect or something of that nature, but no matter how much I have trained to face the fear, and no matter how many times I've overcome the fear, it still exists.

I push the thought aside. I can laugh at myself later. Right now, I have an Imperial encrypted lockbox to find and crack open.

If my sources are accurate, which is fifty-fifty at best, this could be the information heist of the century, and I could possibly get information that could get me into a favorable light among many very intelligent and powerful people. If my sources are inaccurate, I will likely have my reputation further enhanced, which will lead to the Empire devoting numerous resources into my capture and likely execution. I hear that my reputation has become so well-known that even the Emperor's right hand, Darth Vader has taken an interest in me. Whether these rumors are true, I do not know, but I do know that a fight against a Sith Lord would be an experience I will probably not survive.

In any case, my life will either turn for the better or for the worse. Either way, I'm happy and busy. As I deactivate my gloves that can help me cling better to smooth surfaces, I find myself free-sliding and then falling. As I keep my body straight and my eyes on my path, I watch for the next ledge or object to grab on. If I do not time this right, I will be pulverized by the force of the landing. Without a moment of time, I grab an outstretched pole and do a couple of swings before coming landing atop another building, not nearly as tall as the one I was on, but one that affords me a view of the informations storage center.

The Empire invests a lot into Correlia, and with good reason. Correlia was one of the founding members of the Old Galactic Republic. Here stood the home of some of the oldest and the best hyperdrive and ship manufacturers in all the known galaxy. Correlian Engineering Corporations and Czerka Corporations were two of the many, but ships was not the point of interest in my hunt today, but rather shipyard locations across the galaxy as well as some points of interest that could make a massive boon with the right clients and right data. Whenever data was related to the Empire, I was always curious to know. If there's one thing that I know about the Empire, it's that they keep a tight lid on all going-ons, even the less significant things.

I hold my arm up and a holographic display comes to life. I switch to 3D mode to look more at the map I've been provided by my employer. Although the map is lacking information, I can improvise, one of the most important lesson I picked up from my Mandalorian. Taking a sigh of something I couldn't place, I stand up and use my wrist-mounted cable shooter to create a line towards the floor I need to get to. I then take out a weapon that is considered so primitive by the galaxy that no one in their right minds would ever use it. It's a bow, but not a simple wooden bow. It's a highly modified Beskar alloy, foldable, and with a laser sight that can only be seen by certain vision goggles, or my cybernetically enhanced eyes. Sliding to the other building with both hands holding the bow, I use the momentum to kick at the glass and shatter it.

As soon as I crash my way into the building, an alarm begins to sound. I had better make this fast. I sprint as fast as I can. As I sprint down the maze of hallways, Imperial Stormtroopers are pursuing me, and I dodge and shift, but do not slow down. I can risk taking a bolt or two. Besides I have already set off alarms all over the place. I might as well make as much noise as possible. I pull my blaster from my hidden holster and fire, taking a few heads with some accuracy and luck, but I know that more Stormtroopers will be arriving soon. Even though standard Stormtroopers are beneath me, sooner or later I will be overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. In order to stall their progress, I activate a one,way shield that blocks the hallway. It can deflect all forms of blaster fire and lightsaber. It will remain active for three minutes, bareul enough time for me.

Leaving the Imperials to deal with the shield in their path, I make a mad dash for the main informations center. It is immediate to me I am in a library when all I see are data shelves, hundreds of them all streaming with information. Left alone and with infinite time, I could spend hours trying to even make sense of even a fraction of it. If did not have a means to narrow in on the data I want, this would all be a waste, but as I slice into the main control console, I activate a worm to slither through the data and narrow search parameters until only one remains.

The worm is fast, but it will still take two minutes and forty-nine seconds, and the shield will remain operational for two minutes and twenty-seven seconds. I silently pray that the worm hurries up. With some time to prepare, I use a couple of grenades in some crevices of the entrance. I also set down some compact explosives. If I am lucky, I can collapse the entrance and buy perhaps a few more seconds.

I hear an explosion down the hall. The shield is down, and with one minute and thirty seconds left to go, I grit my teeth. Noticing that there is no cover, I grab one of the large data shelves and grunting and exerting all my strength and cybernetics, I push it down to make a makeshift cover. I do it just as the Imperials round the corner and open-fire. I feel a bolt graze my head, the heat painful. I grab my sniper rifle and begin to take down targets one by one. Every two point three seconds, I take down a target, duck down, and do it again. I reload after every sixth shot. The second suddenly begin to turn to minutes as I watch the worm work.

"Osik," I curse silently.

I toss a thermal detonator blindly, not knowing of anything will be hit by it. I then take a couple more shots with my sniper rifle. I tilt my head slightly as a bolt passes by me. I duck down, trying to think of another way to stall them. I pull out another grenade, thinking it to be a thermal detonator, but then I realize it's a flash grenade. Gripping it, I look out to see at least twenty stormtroopers firing away at me. Now would be a good time to use it.

I swing my hand with the best angle I can manage and take cover as the flash washes overy everyone. I can hear the shouts of confusion and anger. I turn to look at the console to see it is finished.

Ten seconds.

The flashbang will likely work for...four seconds.

I holster my sniper rifle and take shots with my blaster pistol. About five go down quickly, but then, fifteen more troops enter the room.

I immediately feel the pain of a bolt on my arm. Normally, I would be wearing my armor, but today, I wore a standard Imperial pilots outfit. It was light, nimble, and provided some equipment I found useful. I also thought it to be a bit more casual, which would draw less suspicion.

I duck down once again. If I try to fire now, I'll be dead. I then notice that the terminal has completed its task. I quickly tap commands and retrieve the data spike. I then begin to climb one of the shelves, narrowly avoiding fire. As I climb to the top I notice several panels on the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, I get a running jump, I use the momentum of my jump to kick my legs into the panel and open it, then continuing the swing and entering the shaft.

This position is not exactly the ideal place, but it is better than trying to go back through the exit. Using the 3D map to guide me, I hear stormtroopers below marching to try to cut me off. I take a left turn and then find myself in a vertical tube. This appears to be a maintenance shaft for droids. I check to make sure I am not being followed and I take the way up, taking care not to slip and fall. The air is relatively thin, so I try not to exert too much energy into climbing, even if I have climbed like this hundreds of times.

When I can hear the wind rushing from above, I know that I have reached the roof, The hatch above blocks me from freedom, but a solid punch to it and it easily breaks. I hop out in a low crouch, searching for any dangers. I then hear some TIE fighters around, and the sound is coming fast. Cursing, I begin to relay some orders to my ship. Stealth technology is so rare in ships that it might as well be considered illegal, but I simply took some old technology and improved upon it. Using a Krayt Dragon crystal that I procured in my travels, I incorporated it to substitute lightsaber crystals into a technology conceived by the old Sith Empire thousands of years ago.

Then, I can see a TIE Fighter right on my tail, firing away. At this point, I may as well be digging my own grave. I duck and weave desperately, but the TIE Fighter continues to chase me. As I approach the edge, I do not hesitate for a second, I jump and find myself fall for a second before feeling something beneath my feet. Then, my ship appears and I waste no time in finding the upper hatch and entering the ship.

The elevator descends at rather slow pace, too slow. As I exited, I made my way briskly over to the console, which was piloted by my droid and friend, CX-66. Although appearing to be a standard protocol droid, I had programmed him to be the best non-living pilot possible. He may not be a combatant, but he never leaves the ship, so it all works out in the end.

"Master, how goes your trip? Did you achieve the objective?"

"Yes" I said, "but I may or may not have to lie low for a time. Prepare the hyper-drive to light-speed while I hold off the incoming TIE fighters."

"Yes master," CX replies.

Without wasting a moment, I run for the upper turret, trying to get a good view. I can see six TIE fighters in hot pursuit. I fire off a few warning shots, seeing how they will proceed to engage. Predictably, they split, three in each group. I track their every move methodically and try to discern where they will appear next. I also listen for their distinct sound, which is never difficult to miss. I hear fire coming from outside, but I keep steady. As one swings by me, I retaliate with a volley of fire, taking the wing off of one, which then explodes in a fireball. I then am hard-pressed to keep up with another who flies in an erratic pattern. I miss each time, but I try refocus. I see another that comes from my right side. I fire a shot that narrowly misses. I try again to fire, but the TIE is already out of my field of vision. I hear the engine of another and am prepared to turn and fire, destroying another one. Two down, four to go.

"CX, how long?"

"They hyperdrive is nearly ready."

With a grunt of affirmation, I continue my task at hand. I can feel a slight shake as the ship shields absorb the damage. I turn to another screen that shows me the visuals been seen. The TIE fighters are flying in circles, rotating every so often. I wait and predict where the next one will happen, and then I take a chance shot. The shot hits dead center and the target is obliterated. The other three still linger. I can feel my patience waning now. This was taking too long. No more messing around. Time for the TIEs to fly or die...actually die at this point.

I see the next one coming and take it down quickly. The other two are now beginning to fly even more erratically than before. I now have to rely more on sound. I listen as the sound fade in and out. My eyes narrow in concentration. Without warning, I swivel and take down one trying to flank, but as soon as that one is down the final comes in and fires on the turret. I wince slightly at the flash and I shift slightly as the impact hits. If I did not have to remain in an atmosphere, I would like to scrap this one with my bare hands then incinerate the scraps, but I let my annoyance pass as I wait, and then before I can take a shot, I see everything disappear. The stares blur and the familiar blue color fills my view.

I slump back in my seat. Another contract fulfilled, but before the information can be delivered to the client, I have to make a copy of the information myself.

**00000000000000000000**

Outer Rim Territories

Lothal

2100 Hours

3648 ATC

Kanan and Chopper were engaged in a game of holochess. The game was already an hour in, and Kanan was weighing his options out carefully. He was trying to take down Chopper's various minion pieces, but the droid had seen some of his tricks and made a counter attack, but the Jedi would not be deterred so quickly. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve, but he wanted to see if he was either forced to use them or if an opportunity presented itself. His master had always taught him to watch and observe before making a move. To combat an enemy, it was best to know how to do so. Really, it was common sense, but it was astonishing to see how many people seemed to forget that and just charge in, blasters and lightsabers blazing.

Ezra and Zeb were currently engaged in a quarrel about what to watch over the holonet. Sabine, surprisingly, had taken the time from her artistic side to join them, not really to do anything with anyone, but more to just be there with them, leaning against the wall, watching the whole spectacle. She probably was getting more inspiration for her artistic side. Hera was also there, but the ship was landed for the night and they could all rest. She sat, watching Kanan and Chopper playing, a slight smile on her face. It was one of the few times that Kana could recall seeing that everyone in the same room other than the cockpit. With all the differences in the crew, it was rather difficult to get everyone in the same room for a reason other than to go over missions or fret over space battles in the cockpit. It actually made Kanan somewhat relaxed.

The day had gone rather well. Like most days, they had stolen some Imperial supplies and given it to those in need of course. Everyone seemed to be content. Sabine detonated a few explosives, Zeb had taken down a few Stormtroopers with his staff. Ezra had been himself, as usual, Force knew that boy was trouble despite his skills and helpfulness. Hera stayed back, staying amused at the way the crew quarreled. Kanan was just happy that they had pulled off a job without much of a hassle, considering that most of their jobs usually ended up going haywire. He dared not to hope for too much luck. They would undoubtedly have to deal with awry plans and jobs hundreds of times.

"And in greater news, last night, Coronet City on Correlia experienced a sudden attack as the Imperial Headquarters building was infiltrated and important data stolen from the Imperial archives. Imperial authorities and Stormtroopers witnesses have identified the attacker as the terrorist designated Archangel, who staged a one-person operation to retrieve data pertaining to Imperial operations. Twenty-two Imperial Stormtroopers lost their lives to defend the archives."

Kanan's eyes and ears perked up as he listened in. Everyone else seemed to follow his lead. Even Ezra, albeit with confusion, listened in. Whenever rebellion in general was on the Holonet, the crew was always listening in.

"Archangel has been classified as the most-wanted criminal in the Empire as well as by the Hutt Cartel, but his movement is erratic and hidden. He is known by none and no one is capable of providing any information about him or his past. Information pertaining to this mysterious man is extremely rare and difficult to come by according to Imperial Intelligence. Archangel's bounty is still at large, with ten million credits on his head. It is even said that the Emperor's right hand, Darth Vader, has become involved with apprehending Archangel, but no one has confirmed nor denied these claims. We will continue to update you with further news as we get. In other news..."

Zeb whistled. "Ten million? Not bad."

"Who is this Archangel," Ezra asked.

"Archangel," Sabine said," is someone the Empire's been trying to track down for over eight years. Not much is known about him, but what is know is that he hasn't been caught yet, and if you saw all the stuff he's done, then you know why he's such a big deal."

"So we know Archangel is a he," Ezra said, "Anything else? Species, physical features?"

"He's human," Hera said," but that's about everything that anyone knows, The Empire's not keen on telling the exact information, but even they don't have much to tell. Every crime that involves Archangel is large and is in the news. If the stories are all to be believed, then he's really good, and as far as anyone knows, he works alone. Always."

"Still," Zeb said, "there's only so much he do alone."

"Hey," Ezra interjected, "I got by just fine myself before I got here."

"Ezra," Sabine said, shaking her head, "you had no weapons and were a thief out for survival. Archangel is a lone wolf who can hold off small Imperial armies single handedly. Not exactly comparable."

"Hey," Ezra shouted, "I'm not that helpless."

"In any case," Kanan interrupted, "We should get to sleep for the night. We have a long day tomorrow. We need to be up at 0600 hours sharp."

"In that case," Zeb said, "I'll take my leave."

"Same here," Ezra replied.

"And actually get some sleep," Hera said, "Don't get into an argument or fight."

Zeb and Ezra sighed. Hera was always on their case about getting on each other's nerves, but then again, it was her ship, so they had to obey.

**This story is already turning out to be so cliche that it's not really that great in my opinion, but I felt compelled to get the idea out. Maybe it's something worth working on. That depends on the viewers. Subscribe, favorite, follow, and Review. When reviewing, be honest about it. I know people can say "It's awesome" or "I love it" or "Keep it up". I don't want to hear that. You can add that in, sure, but actually tell me what could be better, be it grammar, writing style, the theme, the character development, anything so I can improve upon what I write.**

**Also, my OC is not going to be overpowered. I simply drew inspiration from other Star Wars characters and incorporated already-seen abilities into my character. I don't know if my character came across as too good or anything, but he won't be.**

**If you have a problem with the story, well then there's that great thing called the BACK button. Seriously, if you object to this story, then read something else or go write your own idea. If you're going to bang on my story and not give me anything to improve on, you're wasting your time. I write stories for fun, to learn, and to get ideas out. That being said, I hope you enjoyed this. Peace!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Problems

Chapter 2: Galaxy Map

Starship _Killobyte_

En Route to Nar Shaada

E.T.A five galactic standard hours

3648 ATC

It had taken me close to an hour to transfer the data onto my ship's library mainframe, but I was doing more than just copying and transferring data. I also had to make it look like that the data spike had not been tampered with. My client would no doubt scan the data for any breaches or bugs or any sort of malicious software imbedded in the data. Every precaution had to be taken in order for me to receive the maximum payment possible.

I laughed at myself for being so diligent at this work. At this point, I have accumulated enough credits for me to train and organize an army. All of my earnings come from over nine years of bounty hunting, taking on the missions that no mercenary in their right mind would ever take out of fear or realism, at least that was what they called it.

Every bounty I took, every piece of data I took, every artifact that I procured, they were all things to challenge me. It was due to pulling off what everyone else considered the impossible that I earned a reputation among secret organizations spanning the galaxy, organization that were unknown even the Empire and the former Republic. They paid generously because they knew that everyone else would not even entertain the thought of these suicide missions, but suicide was one of the reasons I took. I have never felt more alive than when I am almost dead. I digress, I have enough credits to retire in style, to train a private army, and to do many other things,but as you have guessed, none of these are for me.

At this point, I might as well spend for some unique and luxury trinkets and items, but in truth, I have enough artifacts, relics, and antique items to fill a museum. I am rather minimalist when it comes to money. Everything I buy has to serve a useful purpose. That has always been my principal. I almost never buy luxury or convenience things, and I make few large purchases, with one of the exceptions being my ship, the _Killobyte_.

The only other time I remember buying so much was that I had purchased a home somewhere on the beautiful and peaceful planet of Naboo. It was expensive, sure, but nothing that I could not handle. When I had first met the owner, they felt a bit hesitant to sell it to me, but once I produced the credits and gave them my knowledge home maintenance and such, they gave in. That was over three years ago. Ever since then, I have made some careful and elaborate designs to the home and turned it into more of a fortress of artifacts, technology, and design. Naturally, to avoid suspicion of the Imperials, it was registered under my birth name since my birth name and Archangel carry absolutely no connection to each other. I had made sure of that. I did miss that place. I have not been there for eleven months. I might want visit so I can relax and unwind for a time.

As much fun as it is traveling the galaxy, making adventures for myself, doing these things that would leave others open-jawed and awed, I do remember a much more peaceful and simpler time, a time before I became Archangel. I remember vaguely of a family I use to have, not by blood. Mandalorians did not require blood ties to become family, which was why I was accepted into their fold so easily. Those times were ones that I remember as clear as day yet are are distant as a millennium. I can see a fire. I ...can feel its warmth as I hear the chants of many voices. I … can hear a thousand cries. I can hear ...

I push the thought aside. I do not want to mourn. I have already done enough of it, and it gained me nothing. Mourning is for those who are unwilling to move from the past. The dead exist in past, and I must focus on the present and future.

My head turns to the sound of the door opening. I watch as my droid and personal pilot CX-66 enters the data library. We are the only two individuals on the ship, which I suppose means I am not very social, but that would be untrue. I have many people I speak with. I have learned the tricks of the trade. I simply do not possess many close friends that I confide with. CX is one of the three people I would ever tell my darkest and most hidden secrets. My secrets have secrets, my deception hides deception, and my knowledge contains only more knowledge. Essentially, I cannot be taken at face value. That is my greatest weapon: utter unpredictability.

"Master, how goes your research," CX inquisitively says.

I turn to him and face him fully.

"As smooth as I can make it," I respond.

"At your best," CX commented, "no one is your superior."

I laugh at his flattery.

"If only I could overcome all challenges, but I am only mortal," I chuckle. "Getting back to your original question, the data is almost finished recording. Once finished, I will run a program that will erase all traces of my access."

CX nodded his head. "Yes, master. I see that you are quite alright with the situation. Shall I do anything for you?"

I think for a moment. I usually do everything myself, which includes making meals, repairing the ship, cleaning up my equipment, and other things that keep the _Killobyte _in optimal condition. If it were anyone else, no doubt they would have already purchased a droid to do all of the dirty work, but having others to do the duties that are considered unworthy or undesirable is another weakness. It is best to do what you can yourself and rely on others as little as possible. Maybe this comes from my time being alone for so long, but I feel it is important to know and understand everything that you do.

"No, just keep the ship on course," I say nonchalantly.

"As you wish master." With a quick bow, CX left, and the data had finished.

Turning around again, I began to tap a few demands and activate the library's interactive 3D projections. Suddenly, the room is filled with hundreds, possibly thousands of worlds, each with information. The room spanned over fifteen meters. So much history, so much information, so many lost things, all of it here for me to interpret and understand. I have yet to even go through even a fraction of it. I probably might need assistance in reading, researching, and understanding it all. It's even difficult to know where to begin. There are so many beginnings. Each one provides a unique tale, one that has been all but forgotten by the known galaxy. For instance, the galaxy was once ruled by an ancient races known as Rakata.

The Rakata was an ancient species that once dominated all species. Their grasp on technology was astonishing, so much so that they made our technology look like refurbished junk. Their Empire controlled all of the known galaxy and more. They built some of the greatest marvels of technology. The Starforge was the most well-known of their technological war machines. Using the Force, more specifically the power of the dark side, the Star Forge additional drew power from suns. It could create almost anything out of virtually nothing at all, something that was considered impossible by modern technology standards. Not even the most advanced technologies in the galaxy could compete with it. They were all insignificant in comparison to it. Even after the destruction of the massive space station, pieces of its remnants were salvaged and were fully operational.

I paused to look down at myself. Why do I feel a great obsession about the Star Forge, even though it is history long gone? There is only one thing I can say, or rather six words: remnants of it reside in me.

Part of my body, or more accurately, over half of my body is the result of an implanting of the ancient Rakata technology into my systems. Believe me when I say this: it was never my intention to have pieces of a 30,000 year-old machine implanted into me. I myself wonder if perhaps I have grown this way due to its influence. I do not know. I have never possessed the powers of the Force. I am no Jedi, nor an I Sith. Those are arbitrary terms to me. I do not care, nor do I want to care about Force-users, but now, I might have to start caring, or I should have cared when I was given these implants when I was born.

My whole existence has been a blur because of this thing. I do not why, but when I was born, I was dying, and fast. My mother was desperate to save me and my father did not want to see me die, not by a plague, but by combat. They both wanted me to live, and they did the only thing they knew what to do: implant me with a technology that they did not fully understand, one that they had found together, and that would be able to save my life. In a desperate attempt to save me, The implants were surgically implanted into my skull. There was no pain. As a baby, I probably was in immense pain. After that, I made a magical recovery. The technology did not just stay in my body. It began to influence all parts of me. I soon went from being the baby with the worst conditions and disease in the galaxy to becoming immune to all diseases and viruses. In short, I could not die by anything. To this day, I do not understand why my body reacted to the technology like it did, but I did not question it. I merely went with it.

My parents were astonished at my growth. I developed faster than any child, both physically and mentally. By the age of three, I could speak fluently in basic and in Mando'a. Now, I am fluent every known language in the galaxy thanks to the data I inserted into my Rataka technology in my head. By the age of six, I could fight a defensive fight for long periods of time against my father. Today, I have become a fighter who focuses on the unorthodox and rarely-seen fighting moves and styles. My mother could not always be there for me, but when she could, she taught me the art of the silent and subtle killer while my father taught me the art of the frontline and brutal killer. I excelled in both, but being subtle was what I did better.

Not only had the implants enhanced my mental capacities. They had also strengthened my body. My immune system had the ability to shift and adapt to invading substances that were harmful to the body so fast that no disease would ever be able to take root. My body as a whole was enhanced. My bones developed a new layer that increased the durability of my bones ten fold stronger than that of any normal human. My muscles are so much more dense than they appear. I have seen far more muscular beings in this galaxy than myself. If a normal person looked at me, I appear to have a toned build, not too bulky, but not too skinny, but I can lift roughly three times my weight. My eyes have been enhanced, allowing me to see farther than normal and see in the dark. My hearing has also been enhanced to the point when I can hear a pin drop in a rainstorm. The sensitive hearing is also a problem in some respects. Some sounds are so loud to me that it actually can be painful. The way I compensate for it is a earpiece that can isolate all potential sounds that can disorient me, but certain sound frequencies can bypass my earpiece and get to me.

I suppose you get the point. I am finely-tuned lethal killing machine, trained by an assassin and a soldier, educated by my own self-motivations. In short, I do not require help, or maybe I do not seek it, but for all the strengths that the technology gives me, I'm at a serious disadvantage, or at least I believe myself to be.

The Rakata technology has also given me some sort of stronger connection to the Force. When I was born, I was already Force-sensitive, but I did not discover that until my training began and I became aware that I could sense certain attacks before they happened. I simply used this to my advantage, but it was not until I learned about the Star Forge that the visions came to life. The visions are hazy and unreliable. Naturally, all things involving the mind are unreliable.

People always tell me that they remember things as clear as day, that it feels like it happened almost yesterday, I think that they have no idea about what they speak of. I say this because memory is unreliable. Memory is easily distorted by a person, seeing that they want to see, what they want to hear, what they want to smell, and what they want to feel. It is why when police forces convict an accused, they base their search on evidence. Eyewitness is inconsistent and from many perspectives, the truth is not clear.

That's not to say that I never use memory. Memory is better for more personal thoughts, not matters that involve confirming the real happenings of an event.

Better to not dwell too much, and getting back to my disadvantage, which is easily explainable and yet is also a complete enigma.

These visions, however, are only a small part of an even larger one. I do not know why, but for some odd reason, the pieces embedded within me are … somehow enhancing my Force Sensitivity. Over my time, the technology has slowly been spreading into my body. I do not understand why this is. All I know is that it is a slow and tedious growth,but make no mistake, the growth still continues. I become aware of new things from time to time, and it intrigues me and irks me. What is more concerning is that since the Star Forge is a machine of the Dark Side, I fear that it will begin to take control of me, in both body and mind. To that end, I must find a way to balance out the dark, and the only way to do it is with the light.

And there is only one place that I can think of that I can obtain teachings of the Light Side: The Jedi Temple on Coruscant.

And I thought attacking an Imperial data center was bad enough.

The Jedi Temple is one of the few things of the old Jedi Order that still stands. The Emperor had declared that place to be off-limits to the public and has a heavy Imperial garrison stationed there in order to reinforce the off-limit part. Anyone willing to go there is either suicidal or truly desperate.

I am both.

I tap into my wrist com and relay a message to CX-66.

"_CX, as soon as I deliver the payment, set a course to Coruscant."_

"_Understood, master. I will make preparations immediately."_

I close the com and decide that perhaps now would be a good time to do something else other than work myself to death. The Force, Archangel, and other career things aside, I decide to amuse myself and see what is on the Holonet. Maybe my stunt has passed. I hope so. Actually, I do not hope for anything. Hope is not for me. It may work for some, but to me, hope has been the worst idea conceived.

I turn on the Holonet and begin surfing through the various channels. Many of these channels are Imperial-funded and Imperial-monitored, which include most new stations as well as some other information channels. The channels not controlled by the Empire are privately-funded by certain corporations, but those too carry some trace of Imperial influence. Really, there is nothing on right now that catches my attention.

Then I turn to hear a news report concerning the planet Lothel. A report of some upstarts making away with a TIE fighter and making a general fuss. The rebels were not identifiable, or the Imperials were not willing to release the video feed that was most likely abundant,

If I know Imperials, is that they like to monitor things heavily. Every Imperial Stormtrooper has a helmet camera. Major cities are protected by motion sensors, heat, detectors, and surveillance security. Every living being in the Empire can be identified and traced in mere moments. The only reason I have been able to avoid these sensors, is that the Rakatan technology inside me tampers with my DNA. To a scanner, my species is unknown, because essentially, my DNA suggests multiple species at once. I once thought as to why my DNA is universal like it is, and what I believe to be the case is that since the Star Forge was built by slaves of all races, their influence could have been absorbed by the Star Forge. The idea was not exactly provable, but there was nothing to deny it either. It was a hunch.

These rebels apparent used the TIE fighter to attack innocent workers. If this was the truth, which I doubted, then these rebels were clearly mad. However, I have a hunch that there's more to this than what's been told. I record the newsreel and begin to have an analysis do a thorough research on these rebels. I want to know about them. I want to know about anyone who would dare to strike out against the Empire. People of our kind are rare and spread out. As soon as I had a connection to an Imperial signal, I could hack into the Imperial networks and dig up for any more information. Perhaps we can help each other.

I begin to transmit the data to the client. I watch as the data is transferred from light years away in hyperspace. Technically, that should not be possible, but I have found ways around it, and this is the best time to transmit data, where no one can even find it. The transfer was rapid, and once the client acknowledged the information was valid, the credits transfer began. Two hundred thousand credits were added into his account. More money to be saved, but maybe I would be better off buying some new odd and end things to perk his ship up. Maybe a new paint scheme would not hurt. After all, a pure black ship is not going to turn many heads. What would be the best color to paint?

No, black is my thing. Maybe a symbol of some sort.

**00000000000000000000**

To say that Kanan was frustrated was an understatement. Master Luminara was not there. He was a fool to even consider the idea that any Jedi would be taken prisoner by the Empire. It was a foolhardy decision and he would not make the same mistakes again. He should learn to never trust anything he heard on the holonet. The Imperials most likely baited them to come. He was thankful that no one had got injured or ended up dead, but the missions was for nothing. However, it wasn't his frustration that was the most worrying thing to him. It was Ezra.

The boy was far from being a Jedi. He was still unfocused, undisciplined, and reckless, but he was starting to show signs of improving, albeit slowly. They had grown up much differently, Kanan being in the Jedi Order and Ezra living a normal life and then being an orphan. Kanan did not know how or when he learned to use the Force, but he was definitely using the Force when he least expected it. His subconscious use of it was noticeable by Kanan, and that was what gave him hope. Hope was something that seemed to have dwindled down as much as the number of Jedi still alive in the galaxy.

What did catch him a bit off guard was the fact that Ezra wanted to stay with him because they were good for each other. There was truth to those words. As a Jedi Padawan, Kanan had been a bit like Ezra. He had once been trying to prove himself. Jedi Master Depa Billada had once scolded him about his more uncontrolled side, but she did not say that he could not express that side at all. She had said once that as Jedi, it was their duty to hide emotion and not use them because Jedi used logic and calm to solve problems. She did once say that even Jedi have difficulty hiding it all down and that even Jedi needed to express themselves at some point. Now that he was living a "normal" life, those words were most truthful indeed.

Apart from Ezra's progress, the rest of the crew was upbeat. Everyone seemed to be okay, or as okay as they could be given the circumstances. There was no doubt that the mission had downed each of the crew, whether on a personal level or just that it was a failure. Usually, when a failure happened, they would not be so down, but this mission initially had the potential to do more than simply being a tiny nuisance to the Empire. If Master Luminara, the whole situation could be changed. The possibilities seemed endless at the time, but all hope was dashed away now. The Empire had them fooled.

Kanan watched as Ezra and Zeb had a conversation together, feeling a slightly better mood from his student. Both of them were so different yet they seemed to work out fine. He did admit that at times, it was like a test to see if Ezra could get on Zeb's good side. Now that they were friends, both of them quarreled like friends and acted like kids at times. They still had a way of getting on each other's nerves, but it never lasted long.

Hera had taken in Ezra without much approval. She had her reasons for doing so, but she compared the kid to Kanan. That did not sit well with the Jedi at the time, but now, silently, he did agree with the Twi'lek pilot. She had this sage side to her that Kanan found to be helpful and comforting at times. She also carried much compassion and caring, and it showed. She now acted as a sort of motherly figure the Ezra, and the boy had taken to her well.

Sabine, too, had taken to him quickly, even though she was less open about it. It was also clear to Kanan that Ezra had a thing for Sabine, but the Mandalorian was clearly not interested. Even though they were only two years apart, Sabine was already an adult by her people's traditions. Ezra was still but a boy, but then again, it probably meant nothing. The Jedi didn't really worry about this too much. They were all friends … at least as far as he could see.

He made his way into the cockpit where Hera sat, doing a few minor tuneups and working on the _Ghost_. She was focused, and when she set her mind to do something, she did not stop until what she wanted was done. It was, after all, "her" ship, so she had virtually free reign as to what she could order people to do. It was fortunate that she demanded for things within reason, but Zeb and Ezra probably did not see things the same way as Kanan did.

Deciding to simply wait until Hera noticed him, he leaned against the door and watched her working away, occasionally hearing her hum in approval or disapproval. Soon, he felt the calm kick in.

**I won't lie: this was a rather difficult chapter to write because it was kind of boring. As the story goes on, there will be more action and more thought processes, several flashbacks, and many dilemmas. For those of you who ask about the story or more about the characters, I will not tell you. You will just have to read it and find out. That's the charm of writing.**

**I did mention that I am worried about my character being too skilled or powerful in my viewer's eyes. I simply did what was within reason, at least I think I did. If you feel that I overdid some of his abilities, you can complain about it.**

**REVIEWS are helpful to writing a better story. Also if you haven't done so, follow, subscribe, and favorite so I can continue this story. I hope you all enjoyed reading!**


	3. Chapter 3: How a Mandalorian Fights

Chapter 3: Raid on the Jedi Temple

**Coruscant**

**Core Worlds**

**3648 ATC**

**Crack of Dawn**

_"Master, we are approaching the ruins of the Jedi Temple. Be advised, there is a heavy Imperial Garrison stationed below, including Purge Troopers, sharpshooters, and two of the Emperor's Shadow Guards."_

I listen to CX-66's words, aware of the Imperial Garrison part, but not familiar with the specifics. Purge Troopers were the thing that I was most concerned about. Although the information I have about them gives me insight into its flaws, I have yet to actually fight one. These mechanical stormtrooper-looking droids were built to combat Force users, the most likely being the Jedi. Their armor was built to withstand lightsaber attacks and heavy weapons of many kinds. They were walking talks with an arsenal of weapons.

At close quarters, they carried retractable energy blades and wrist shields that could deflect all forms of small-arms fire and take limited cannon fire. They could slam their fists into the ground to deliver a short shockwave of energy in a five-meter radius. At long range, the droid employed anti-personnel rockets, equipped with limited tracking abilities. Some variants could also be equipped with miniguns or other forms of heavy weaponry. In short, they are walking tanks, equipped to deal with everything ground-based. Combine that with the fact that possessed magnetic tractor boots that prevented the droid from being gripped or pushed with the Force and it would most certainly ruin a Jedi's day quickly.

The most easily discernible weakness was their speed, which was painfully slow for me. For all of their arsenal and murder weapons, their weapons could easily be avoided. Also, while their armor provided them with reinforcement against lightsabers and blasters. One thing that all Purge troopers were susceptible to was lightning. Any energy-based attacks like Force lighting were very crippling to the droid's inner systems. Also, while it was not obvious, but the armor was weaker in certain spots on the back as well as some joints. Because Purge troopers were expected to take down enemies in front of them, it was not likely that they were needed to reinforce the parts that Jedi and other enemies would not have the time nor the ability to do, so in true Galactic Empire fashion, weak spots are left to be exploited by those who can find them, but even with the knowledge, I am prepared to fight. Never underestimate an opponent, even one you know about.

The _Killobyte_ steadies and I lower the loading ramp to look down. Because I want the element of surprise before I do serious damage on the Imperial garrison. I decided to risk a free-fall jump and using my rocket boots to cushion the landing. The likelihood of detection is minimal, and once I land, I can assess the situation from there. If my luck persists, I might have enough time to actually organize what I can and cannot use. The Jedi Temple is vast and contains much knowledge that has not seen the light of day since the end of the Clone Wars fourteen years ago. In short, it's not know how much the Sith took from the archives. Honestly, I myself, do not know too many of the specifics, but I will soon. It is now a matter of getting in.

Taking a breath, I dive head-first. The wind rushing around me, I keep my body straight and keep focused on my trajectory. The early morning light has just begun to light the sky, making for a rather glorious morning. Had I not been planning this mission, I would take the time to enjoy sunrises. Filing away that thought for later, I notice a platform that is rapidly approaching, growing larger as I fall faster. My eyes watch carefully, timing myself. After one hundred meters, I prepare myself to land. At the last second, I do a flip and activate my rocket boots, landing softly on ground, but the Imperial Stormtroopers guarding the platform have already spotted me and move in to intercept. I take the time to draw a silenced blaster and casually take down three of them. Since there is no cover, I am forced to duck, dodge, and weave through the air filled with blaster bolts. I spot a group clustered in a half circle. I then activate my boots, spinning in place about a meter in the air while activating my flamethrowers on both my wrists, lighting up a ten-meter diameter circle of fire. The troopers cry out as the flames begin to eat through the armor. I turn my head to see two more troopers standing on a bridge leading to the temple, their weapons trained on me, but daring not to fire. They look at each other, which was a fatal mistake, for I close the distance all-too quickly, quickly opening a retractable blade from my left hand and thrusting into the chest of on trooper. I then quickly turn to the other and grab him in a headlock. The trooper struggles before I forcefully snap his neck. The body falls to the ground, not moving.

Wasting no time in looking at my handiwork, I turn to resume my mission. The Temple gates are open a crack, barely wide enough to get me through. With some effort, I squeeze through the crack praying that the door doesn't close on me. When I get to the other side, I stick to the shadows. I would activate my cloak, but for the sake of honing my skills, I stay true to the difficult-to-see places. Needing to get a better view, I attempt to climb a ledge, quickly and quietly. The ragged, broken, and otherwise destroyed interior provides enough grip for me to scale without trouble.

As soon as I reach a reasonable view, I take out my macrobinoculars. I take a look around the vast area that covers the room. Even though the room is destroyed, I could tell that it was once a grand place, no doubt teeming with Jedi Knights and Masters, all of different species, lightsaber form preferences, and different Force abilities. There are no bodies around. In fact, there appears to be a very skeleton crew of stormtroopers here. My macrobinoculars also can see a few snipers perched on the higher levels, watching for intruders ever-so vigilantly. I would have to take those down less I want to risk losing my head. The problem was if I use my sniper rifle to take down a target, then I blow my cover and will alert all personnel to my location. I cannot climb up anymore because I would easily be spotted.

I guess that means I will have to create a diversion.

Tucking away my binoculars, I take out my compact bow and select an arrow with an explosive contained in the tip, I take aim at a crumbling support of the room. The distraction will work for maybe a minute, in which I will have to take down three snipers in that time. Not impossible, but not exactly a walk in the industrial area either.

The arrow flies true to my intended target. The explosion comes six seconds later. The troopers on the ground floor immediately investigate. Meanwhile, I try to climb to a higher location in an attempt to get a better view of the snipers. I take twenty-three seconds to climb to the next level. I take another five seconds to equip my sniper rifle. I take another seven seconds to take aim, making sure to blend in as much as possible. I spend fifteen second marking the targets. In five seconds, snipers one and two go down, but sniper three sees and and takes a shot. The shot makes small debris cloud my view. I duck into cover and stay low as I watch a targeting laser come into the window of view. I watch it move shakily and then stay still on my position, the laser remaining in one place.

Damn sniper is trying to wait me out.

I knew it was only a matter of time before other troopers begin to scale to my location and attempt to box me in. Clutching my sniper rifle like cradling a child, I shift myself to move o another position. This level has several other openings, but I do not know where the next enemies will appear. The sniper knows that I am still on the level, but has no idea where I will appear. I no longer see the laser as it tries in vain to find me. I stay crouched and try to slowly make my way towards a little further down the hall. There are more potential sniping positions. It is silent, but I know that Imperials have their blasters trained on my general location. I shift further down the hallway of the level, minimizing my movement so that the indications of my locations are not easily seen.

Checking my sniper rifle to make sure it is working, I activate thermal mode and carefully slip the barrel between some rubel and slowly try to probe for the remaining sniper. My breath steadies as I prepare my trigger finger and slowly narrow in on the target. I can see the sniper perched in one of the higher levels. Imperial snipers are good shots, better than most.

But I am not most. Without a second to lose, I pull the trigger and the shot flies true to its target, taking the head off of the trooper. I am forced to duck again as the stormtroopers below spot my position and fire on me. Deciding that now that I could risk more exposure, I quickly sheath my sniper rifle and take out my collapsible bow. I select tips with extra-sharp points designed to penetrate high-grade armor. With years of training and experience, I began to take quick shots, taking down stormtroopers one by one. All the while, I am careful to watch the time I am taking to take down enemies. About two dozen are dead, maybe more. I do not count how many, and it matters not to me. I came here for Jedi artifacts, not to rack up a kill count. If I want to add more kills to my ridiculous death toll, I would have found better ways to do it.

I needed to move quickly. I had the opportunity. They may radio for help, but I could stall them for a few minutes perhaps, but U have yet to encounter the worst guards of the temple. I need to keep moving.

I quickly hurl a flash bang grenade over the wall, hearing a few cries of anger and confusion. I use the precious seconds to activate my boots and jet to the other side of the room. I turn around then toss two detonators into the archways to partially collapse the doorway. I am not leaving anything to chance. It is regrettable to use the Temple as I do, but I do not possess any useful items to help block the entrance. I will have more time, but I do not want to cause the temple any more damage if I can help it.

As I move into the less spacious interior, I take not of the elaborate design of the rooms and chambers, taking note of potential hidden snipers and sharpshooter positions as well as alcoves and cover that the enemy could be hiding beneath. As if on cue, shots come from seemingly nowhere. I duck behind a pillar. I take a moment to make sure that I am on the correct course before taking a risk and sprinting to another pillar ahead of me, firing blindly with my sniper rifle. Every step I take I will have to fight for it as the trooper presence increases. These troops are far more skilled than the last. More skilled, but still only a minor distraction from the true goal. I stand out of cover for a moment to take down one with a precise shot before slightly adjusting my barrel to fire at another. I slightly tilt my head to the left to avoid an incoming bolt, feeling the heat. I duck again and throw a sonic detonator causing a rather sizeable explosion covering a group of stormtroopers. With an opening, I rush the innermost doors into the Jedi Archives. dodging the bolts with practiced ease. I use the butt of my sniper rifle to take one out and I trip another before firing a round into his head. I then made a quick stride to do a takedown on another. The final one looks at his comrades and just lowers his weapons and stares at me. I cannot tell if this one is in fear or something else. I do not know, and I do not care. I have more important things to worry about. Without so much as a word, I pass the now non-hostile trooper and make my way into the archives.

The first indication that I am in a library are the numerous data shelves. If I had to guess, what I seek is probably not in these data shelves, but in a holocron. To make certain of my suspicion, I take a quick scan with my wrist computer and do scans on multiple shelves, and sure enough, I find historical records concerning key pivotal moments in the Galactic Republic's history, Jedi history, and some Sith history, but nothing regarding Force techniques. I remember from the temple map that the holocrons are located deeper with the sanctum and locked away in a vault. Perhaps only the Jedi Masters could access these. Holocrons are rare and important. I would not imagine a padawan, as the Jedi call their disciples, being able to have access. They lacked the training, experience, and discipline to know how to use them properly. In truth, I am not old really either, an adult by galactic law for about a year or so, but I have been training body and mind since I could speak and move.

As I walk through the library, I find myself curious as to why I am not finding any more enemies in my path. I then round a corner to see two shadow guards with lightsaber pikes guarding the vault. I grit my teeth. This was going to be far more challenging. Shadow guards, while not exactly exceptionally powerful Force users, are not to be underestimated. It is a rumor that Shadow Guards were once Jedi who have been brainwashed into serving the Emperor. The thought is rather interesting and repulsive. To think that the Jedi were being turned against what they once stood for. Perhaps the Jedi deserved it. Perhaps it was the will of the Force that they be all but destroyed.

In any case, I need to get past these guards, and I doubt that my ranged weapons are of much use, so I have to do an very dangerous maneuver. I turn to activate my stealth cloak, watching as my whole body becomes unseen. Hoping that the sounds I make are masked enough. I carefully inch my way towards one of the guards, who remains perfectly still and at attention. I move to their backs and prepare my sheathed knife in my wrist and some other devices. However, before I can strike, the shadow guard senses my presences and moves to cut me in half. I use my right arm to stop the pike from slicing and I do a couple rapid kicks to the chest. The first is unbalanced while the other moves to intercept. I shift my body sideways to avoid an incoming slash from above. I then grab the pike and attempt to disarm the guard, but he lifts me up with the Force. In a slight panic, I concentrate on the Force. he moves in to kill me, but I force my willpower to break the Force stasis field on me and the energy forces both guards backwards, Force shields now active. I close the distance between one, taking the split-second chance to knee one, winding him and grabbing the pike and adjusting the blade in time to parry a blade of the second guard. I do flip over the guard and he tries to intercept, but I dodge and hurl the pike like a spear and both dodge the deadly plasma blade.

I back away as both prepare themselves to strike at me. The both move to strike simultaneously, but I activate my jet boots and activating both wrist flamethrowers and spinning in place, The both take the brunt of the intense flames, and I lay down some thermal detonators, which knocks one to the ground. I quickly attempt to stab one in the head, but he moves out of the way quickly and my blade dents the ground where his head was. Growling. I do a backflip to avoid another strike intended to undercut me. I then hit the ground as another blade tries to meet me, and I deliver a quick but painful shocking, followed by a quick series of strikes and a takedown. With one guard temporarily knocked out, I take his pike, snap it so that I can hold it like a normal lightsaber and turn to face the other shadow guard still conscious. The black-armored guard strikes first, sending a quick flurry of strikes at me intended to try and disarm me or dismember me. The chaotic and frenzied strikes suggest form seven Juyo. I have studied all aspects of lightsaber forms from various Jedi and Sith holocrons that I have collected, and I know that Juyo is more of a Sith's lightsaber style preference, so I employ some form five defense with some form two bladework. I may not be a master sword combat it, but I am more than capable of fighting offensively and defensively. I hold the blade horizontally to block an overhead strike and quickly make the crimson blade vertical to meet a strike at the hip. I quickly launch a counteroffensive. My strike is blocked, so I try again for the other side. The blade is met again.

Maybe I am approaching this battle the wrong way. I'm all about using the rarely used and unorthodox, and I use textbook styles to fight. I need to stop playing by the books and try something else. I attempt an overhead strike. Usually, this was meant to attempt to batter an opponent into submission, and I know that the shadow guard will shift his red blade to meet mine, but then at the last second, I shift my wrist and attack from the side. My blade hits its intended target and shadow guard is struck on the side. The black Force use dubs over in pain, but is obviously trying to remain focused on me. I find it in me to take pity on the poor being. Essentially a slave of the Emperor, a tool of the Emperor, without a conscious, and no important, something to be used until overcome. The pity is replaced with a desire to end his life. It is better that way. Maybe the Force can find a way to give peace to this one. The shadow guard moves to hit me again, but I easily parry and deflect the blade aside and destroy his lightsaber pike. Dropping my blade, I turn to deliver a right hook to his unseen face, which results in a grunt of pain and a stagger backwards. I then unsheath the wrist blade and very quickly stab it through the abdomen.

The death is quick, and I actually take the time to lay the body down and fold his arms neatly on his chest. I lay the now dead shadow guard on the ground and settle to a Mandalorian prayer.

_Mando'ad draar digu, cabur_

A simple praise for a fallen guardian who fought for what he believed in, or what he had been programmed to do. The sentiment was genuine and with what little compassion that I have left. I rise from the dead guard and check on the other guard who is now beginning to become alert, so I give his head a kick to render him unconscious again. I make sure he stays down before turning my attention towards the the door that stood between me and the holocrons. I hold up my wrist computer to the nearby door controls and manipulate it to acknowledge me and the doors open with a woosh.

There are so many holocrons each marked as to its importance, I use my finger to scan for the various Force powers, techniques, combat abilities, healing abilities, negotiating skills, Force manipulation, and so much more. I pause at seven holocrons that detail the seven forms of lightsaber combat. I even take out form three, Soresu, to see how detailed it is, and I discover that everything there is to know is there, so I suddenly find myself taking seven holocrons, and loading them into my pack. I would find a way to open them later. I just needed them for now. Remembering my intended goal, I continue my search, coming upon the last few slots, containing some information on how to best resist and combat the dark side, and keep it in check. I take this one. I finally find a holocron describing some mental and spiritual techniques intended to calm the mind and fight inner demons and lessen their influence. Taking note of the added weight from the holocrons, I am quick to run back out and reseal the vault. leaving no evidence of my entry. I quickly retreat back into the vast rooms and quickly access my radio to radio for CX-66 to extract me at the rendezvous point. A quick acknowledgement told me that he knew and I headed out as quickly as I could. As I pass by the carnage I had done, I find it unnerving that I have encountered any sort of resistance, but once again, my mind thought too soon as I skid to a halt.

Standing in my path were two Purge Troopers. Each was prepared for, each armed to the circuits with weapons and defenses. Not only that, but a few stormtroopers with miniguns were also present. The shots and missiles coming towards me slow down as I get my mind into overtime, With everything slowed down, I dodge to the left and do a roll, firing a wrist rocket at one gun emplacement and blowing it to smithereen. I feel a slight burn on my arm as a blaster bolt hits me in the biceps. I ignore it and maneuver myself in front of a Purge trooper to avoid turret fire, but now I have to deal with a hulking metal giant in front of me. I toss a thermal detonator at it, and the explosion does little to deter it. I fire some shots from my wrist laser, but it brings up a shield to deflect the shots. Realizing that I had no firepower to even damage this thing remotely, I do something completely idiotic and crazy: I rush it, jumping into the air and latching myself onto its head. Two hands reach to grab me, but I duck and kick and punch back, pushing the limits of my natural strength, augmented strength, and Force-enhanced strength. My training kicks in as I attempt to attack and dodge, stabbing my blade into the very small grooves in the armor while taking care to stay secured and avoid all efforts to grab me. I notice the other Purge trooper firing a homing missile at me. I bring up my other hand and a round energy shield appears and the missile bounces off and explodes a few meters away.

I jump to the next trooper, delivering a kick that staggers the trooper. I follow up with a leap and grabbing onto its head and use its back to give me the momentum to deliver a kick to the other stormtrooper manning a gun. The trooper's chest armor caves in and the sound of cracking bones tells me he's dead. As I turn my head, I have not time to completely avoid the incoming missile. I dodge, but I am sent flying and land on my stomach. I get up and get out of the way before the Purge troopers can target me again. I push the limits of my speed to avoid yet another missile, and I veer right, then left, then I deliver a quick shock to one, giving me time to get to the other metal enforcer and reaching into the already-made hole courtesy of my blade strikes and using my gloved hand, my computer begins to interface with the machine, hacking into its systems and forcing it under my control.

The trooper stiffly fired more rockets at its new target knocking it around before a missile to the knee forces it to the ground. I then deliver a quick virus into the controlled Purge Trooper, forcing its systems to go into a hard shutdown. I leap back as the now lifeless metal machine collapsed face-first. The other grey trooper kneeling is still operating, being droid, and not submitting like an organic would. It continued to fire whatever it could, but I quickly made subtle moves to avoid the dangerous projectiles. I then channel every ability to augment my strength and the head snaps back. The trooper falls on his back. Jumping onto its chest. I pull my fist back and force everything that I have at it. The visor is crushed and I pull out my blaster and fire nine shots into its face. I know that it will not destroy the trooper. It can still operate, but as long as it cannot see me, it is of no threat to me.

I turn to notice that the _Killobyte_ has decloaked and awaits me. Forgetting my injuries and my battle, I take off as fast as I can manage. As soon as my feet hit the extended platform, the ship begins to accelerate. With the mission complete and my objectives met, my body begins to acknowledge the injuries that I have. Some burns and a some bruises. Nothing that I will not recover from. They do not hurt that much, but I treat them to keep myself at peak physical condition.

I make my way to the medical bay, which contains no one. I grab a bacta shot and ration it between each burn and place of obvious need. This takes no more than a few minutes. I then check for internal damage, which appears minimal and will self-heal. Satisfied that I am relatively undamaged, I leave the medical bay and make my way to the data library room.

The report that immediately pulls up gives me an up-to-date log concerning the rebels that I had taken an interest in for reasons that amuse me and confound me. The details are not many in comparison to profiles on many galactic characters, but there is enough for my purposes, starting with a suspicious attack on an Imperial Academy for recruiting Imperial Stormtroopers...and the destruction of an Imperial transport vessel carrying a special package. This was going to be interesting to read.

**00000000000000000000**l

**Outer Rim**

**Lothal**

**3648 ATC**

**Early Evening.**

Sabine would normally be doing something more creative with her time, but right now, she was doing some work on her armor. Despite the armor being relatively simply and straightforward to manage, it did need cleaning and a touch up on the paint job. Also, she needed to check her HUD and armor systems to make sure that it wouldn't falter during a fight. Equipment malfunctions weren't good to have in the middle of a firefight. She worked diligently and without pause. Once she did this, she would go join the others for a meal. Then, she would find something else to do, like watch the holonet and marvel at how they made the news again, or mentally mock Imperials and their media.

Sabine was more than aware that the Empire was already hunting their rag tag group for many crimes committed and no doubt after that Sith Inquisitor encounter that Kanan and Ezra had, they were in more danger than before, not that their lives weren't dangerous enough as it was. Living the life as a rebel might as well be a death sentence in the Galactic Empire. Sabine would not know of any other government. She had been born during the Clone Wars, and she could not remember anything about it really, but supposedly, according to her family and clan, the Galactic Republic was far more preferable to the Galactic Empire. Even though the Mandalorians shared no love for either, the Republic at least had the tolerance to talk before firing, but since the Jedi and the Republic were practically one in the same, Mandalorians tended to stay away from Republic space.

There was only one that Sabine could really say was in favor of the Empire and that was the bounty hunter Boba Fett, the son of the Mandalorian Jango Fett. Supposedly, Fett was also a clone of his father. If that was true, than he was clearly superior to all of his "brothers". Sabine did not know much about Fett, but his reputation was known across the galaxy and the Empire and Fett worked well. In a way, it was a shame that such a warrior as he would fight for an Empire so dedicated to making others suffer, but it seemed that the bounty hunter's loyalty was only to credits and maybe to Mandalorians. The man was a mystery.

Then there was the other side of the coin. While Fett was the considered the best bounty hunter in the galaxy and constantly worked for the Empire, there was another individual that had the Empire's attention, though in a far deadlier way than friendly: Archangel. That name, if Sabine dared to say it, struck fear into Imperials. Archangel clearly hated the Empire or was crazy enough to face the Empire alone and without any help. Like Fett, Archangel's face was a mystery, always hidden with his always on-the-move battles and other times a hood. If she had to be honest, Archangel was probably deadly to more than just the Imperials, but knowing little about him like Fett, she could not really say where his loyalty lied, if he had any.

Once she finished with her armor check, she did a quick check on the holonet and discovered a new report. Since it was later in the evening, and given the activity, this was a recent report.

"The attacks of Archangel grow more frequent. At the crack of dawn on Coruscant, the Jedi Temple was attacked and artifacts stolen from the remains. Casualties report at about forty-one trooper deaths along with one incapacitated Imperial Shadow Guard and a dead Imperial Shadow Guard, along with other major defenses taken down. As of now, Imperial Intelligence has begun to pour more resources into finding and capturing Archangel. The Emperor himself has personally been displeased with the raiding of the temple and has called for Archangel's execution. Archangel's bounty price has also been raised to fifteen million credits due to the sensitive nature of the stolen artifacts and temple relics."

Sabine listened and watched with awe and a frown. She had to give credit where it was due. Archangel was seriously ticking off the Empire, but that could be real bad soon. Archangel was practically a legend in the galaxy and many, although not willing to admit it, revered him for defying the Empire, spitting in its face when few could. She could respect anyone who would risk their own life to do so, but she couldn't help but feel that this kind of attack was a little unusual and atypical of Archangel given his tendency to strike at more critical Imperial points and hotspots. Raiding the off-limit Jedi Temple was bad enough, but why steal artifacts from there?

Sabine decided to read more about this later. Right now, she felt her hunger kicking in. Giving the holonet report one last glance, she turned to head for the mess room.

**REVIEWS! That's why I still write and continue. Tell me what was good and what was bad. Critical reviews are welcome. I can take it, and if anyone wants to flame me prepared to be ignored. Anyway, just tell me your honest opinion. If you see grammatical errors, try to overlook them. I want to get this out so readers can read it. Also excuse my poor Mando'a attempt.**

**Also, as I read these other stories about Star Wars Rebels, I question how it is that these other stories get so many reviews. Maybe it was luck, but that won't stop me from updating on the weekend.**

**I decided to switch to a Sabine POV rather than use Kanan again. Because Sabine's character is still not very developed, I have to go off really limited information regarding her personality.**

**If you have questions or concerns regarding how my character fights, leave it in a review. I won't be revealing any more details about the story. If you have any crazy ideas or conspiracies in regard to where the story is going, by all means, PM me about it. I'd love to see what people think will happen.**

**Finally, if you haven't, follow, favorite, and subscribe. Peace!**

**Translation: _Mando'ad draar digu, cabur - _A Mandalorian never forgets, protector.**


	4. Chapter 4: How to Relax

Chapter 4: Nar Shaadda Bar

**Mid Rim**

** Nar Shaadda**

** 3648 ATC**

** Time not recorded**

Deciding that perhaps a day off would be a breath of fresh air, I set a course for the planet Nar Shaadda, arguably the planet with the worst problems of the galaxy, For starters, the population, while not as massive as Coruscant, was over-the-top. There were more people than resources, and like any place in the galaxy, there is a poor district with people literally at each other's throats vying for control and resources, and while the poor battle, the wealthy and powerful use the chaos and imbalance to their advantage, bringing themselves more useless profit like myself. The Hutt Cartel runs this world, but other powerful figures and independent figures reside here as well. It sickens me to know that these scum and wretches feed of the suffering of others in order to profit and make themselves more luxurious than they were before. The Hutts are not known for their frivolous nature and do not take kindly to intrusions of their power base or their authority. If someone challenges them, they send the best mercenaries, bounty hunters, and assassins that money can buy.

I, myself, have worked for the Hutt's, though they do not perceive me as Archangel as no one has seen Archangel's face. I operate as the Mandalorian bounty hunter, Zinthrax. I do not wear the standard Mandalorian beskar armor as I find it to be very generic and not unique in any sort of way. Mandalorian armor is instantly recognizable as Mandalorians are revered as some of the best warriors of the galaxy.

Even though I despise those who feed of the strife and suffering of others, I do admit that I, myself am no paragon of purity. I hunt, I kill, I torture, I fight, all for the sake of survival, at least in my earlier years, Now, with all that I have accumulated, I could make significant influence with the right amount credits, the right information in the wrong ears, and the right side at the the most desperate of times, but I do not use such advantages against my enemies and rivals. It would give me an tactically unfair advantage every time. I would be virtually unstoppable. That is why I do not use my wealth, or information, or my influence. I use my skills to continue to impress, and so far, I have satisfied every employer and customer, but when someone gains, someone loses as well. I do not discriminate between jobs, but the only jobs that I do not ever resort to is involving the innocent and civilians. I believe that speaks for itself.

My status as a Mandalorian doesn't go unnoticed, but I do not make it obvious. My armor is based upon a far different style of armor, partially inspired by archaic armor designs of past warriors both Force user and non Force users. The armor covering my abdomen and torso is comprised of full Beskar as a first layer and durasteel as a second layer. The armor is heavy, but I have adapted over the years and become nimble even with the added weight. The shoulder pauldrons are differing sizes as the armor draws inspiration from arena combat armor. I am left-handed, so my left shoulder is less armored and my right shoulder features the more armored side. The legging and boots are comprised also of Beskar. My gauntlet features dual flame throwers, dual dart and rocket launchers, two cable launches, and two mini blasters. My boots are heavy-duty combat boots where the thrusters for my rocket ability comes from. I can do sustained flight for a few minutes at a time.

Finally, my helmet is the most intricate part as it contains many interesting gadgets and toys that I have had the joy of using, including a range finder, thermal and infrared vision, a highly-advanced heads-up display, water dispenser, and night vision being some of the features. Looking at me with my helmet on, you would not even associate with me even looking human, but then again, with my jumbled-up DNA due to the Star Forge technology, that is hardly beside the point. The helmet was custom-designed by a former friend who had passed on. It reflected an alien persona with four lightning bolt-shaped eyes, all glowing a lime-green.

But enough about my armor. You understand the concept, not your standard Mandalorian armor. I had told CX-66 to have the _Killobyte _remain in orbit above the planet. I knew that the droid had ways of keeping himself entertained. I had programmed him to be very a self-dependent, which probably means that he's doing something to keep himself entertained and occupied. I hate to think that my faithful droid and friend would be left with nothing to do. So here I am, walking the streets of the crowded city area, more specifically, the Promenade, where the markets and a few clubs are. The reason I like to come here is because there are many markets here that sell a lot of interesting and unique items. After all, Nar Shaddaa is the place to go for things that are illegal on Imperial worlds. It's a miracle that the Hutt Cartel has managed to keep their systems a neutral from the Imperials, but that is fine with me, because I really do note like it when the Empire sticks it noose in the business of one of my most paying customers.

Then again, working with the Hutts is not exactly the most subtle way to gain credits. Even though Archangel the terrorist and Zinthrax the bounty hunter are not in any way connected, at least to none but several, the Hutts are not to be underestimated. The Hutts may be greedy, but they are far from fools. When dealing with a Hutt, it is always best to have many escape plans within escape plans and having plans within plans. The best way to deal with them is to appeal to whatever they want. Do what they want, do what they do, and everything will be fine, or as fine as it can be.

I stare at the statue that adorns the very center of the room. Obviously, a Hutt would only further enhance his "image" by placing a status of himself made from expensive metals, not that Hutts were nice to look at in the first place. If you melt down that statue, I know that you could make a small star fighter with it. A waste of materials is what that statue is, a terrible allocations of resources that could be used to do more important and more substantial things, but I cannot affect how people think, just whether they live or die.

I enter the cantina room, taking in the sight, sounds, and smells. For once, it's not a ship or an Imperial place, just a normal where people go to drink away their problems and most likely get hooked up with some … entertainment. I smile, not really because of the drinking or the entertainment, but more so that being in a normal atmosphere is one of the ways to remind me that for once, I can actually be alive and doing something other than being a professional assassin, bounty hunter, slicer, or whatever you want to call me. I can just kick back, even if for only the briefest of times and just take the time that my mind and body needs to recharge.

I go up to the bar and ask for their best mug, and to make the point, I throw in an extra payment to make certain that they give me what I want, but the bartender takes my order and doesn't try anything stupid, a good thing for his sake. As I take a small sip, I notice all of the strange and unusual faces around me. I suspect that some of these guys are mercenaries and hired guns as well. There are certainly no rules saying that you cannot remained armed, and I am most certainly armed. My full armor with the exception of my helmet, but I wear a hood, so I'm pretty much invisible, and with a push of a button, my helmet can cover my head in exactly two point seventy-three seconds, and anywhere between two to five seconds to disarm and knock unconscious or kill.

I'm doing it again, preparing for someone to attack me. This is the exact reason why I need to stop living like the galaxy is after me.

Oh wait, that's right. The galaxy is after me, Archangel.

_Son of a Hutt_, I think glumly.

I quickly down the drink. I need to find a better place to prepare for someone to attack. The bar is too open and too vulnerable. Maybe leaning against the wall will do better. I need to be able to survey from every conceivable direction that my enemies may come. As long as I reside in a place other than my ship and my home, then I must always remain vigilant, so I stand against the wall and lean against it, looking real obvious, but as this point, I do not care at all. The only real enjoyment that I can have is knowing that I will not be taken off guard.

As I lean against the wall, I see one of the dancers, this one not Twi'lek, for once, doing an elaborate dance in an attempt to entice some weak-willed males. I do admit that the dance is enjoyable to watch, but no part of my mind even entertains the idea of anything more. Meanwhile, most of the men in the room, if not busy with their drinks, are gluing their eyes to the nearest dancer. I watch with careful eyes, but none of the dancers can tell that I'm looking at them directly.

"Hey, you gonna do something or you just gonna oggle," a voice says.

I idly turn my head in annoyance. I raise my head so that my eyes can only be seen vaguely, but the scowl does not share the elusiveness of my eyes.

"These dancers are not as good as they appear to be," I answer coldly.

"That a fact," the guy laughs. "or you just afraid to ask one?"

I begin to assess his physical stature. I quickly decide on the ways to inflict harm with minimal hits as well as pressure points to lock him in place. I also keep my gauntlet with my wrist blades, mini-blasters, and flame throwers to my side. As long as I do not move my arms, I appear to be non-violent.

"I could bet you a million credits that I could entice every single dancer in this cantina without even breaking a sweat," I speak quietly. "Why in the galaxy would you care anywhere? Do you not do the same thing?"

"Just notice that you seem to be waiting for someone to kill you," he speculates. "Staring at the chicks doesn't make it any less obvious."

"Lots of people want me dead," I say annoyingly.

"Of that I have no doubt," the hunter says. "Most of the guys here have the same story."

"No," I say bluntly. "Their stories most likely pale in comparison to mine."

"Confidence is good, but don't let it stab you in the back," he warned.

"That was not confidence speaking. Those were simply the facts," I retort.

The poor fool. I could easily draw my blaster and deal a death shot before his mind even registered that he was being attacked or that he would be dead, then I would likely draw attention from his crew members. Guys like these travel in crews. I've seen it many times. Personally, I do not deal with other guns for hire if I can help it. It is not that I do not seek their help or look down upon them. In every million, there are some very skilled individuals, and I know that there are many with my level of skill and maybe more, but that is not the problem.

The problem with working with others is that once you work with someone once, you never forget them, because inevitably, each hunt and each mission, there's a risk of death. Death is something that I can accept. Dying in combat is an honorable way to go down, but I fear for getting close to individual and worry that if their lives were forfeit, it would affect my ability to function normally. In this line of work, emotions and feelings are things that I must leave behind because as far as I'm concerned, the galaxy is a cruel and deadly place. My philosophy from the start has been to never make many friends, else I want to leave more targets for my enemies to converge on.

Reminding myself of this, I swat aside this one's subtle threats and possible recruitment proposal.

"I work alone," I state bluntly, "The last thing I need are others weighing me down."

"You're sharp, I'll give you that," the other human says. "but I must say, you'd be a fool to pass this up."

At this point, my temper has boiled down to the bare thread, which means someone's life is on the line, so stand up straight and stand at my full height, my hooded head still concealed with a glint of my eyes visible, but that is all. I let my teeth grind together, barring them in the most threatening manner that I can muster

"Perhaps you did not hear me," I growl. "I want no part in your mission. Find yourself someone who gives a bantha's backside."

The threat fails to work, and the guy refuses to back down. Even before he responds, my mind grabs one of my weapons and prepares to discharge.

"Come now lad," he says with venomous intent, "surely you know that you can't take us all do-"

In my hand is a weapon that is forbidden in the Empire, and it is a symbol of the old Jedi Order: a lightsaber, but not one that I stole or killed a Jedi for. This one I built myself. It was one of the most difficult missions of my life, my pride and joy, per say. Because I am know my way around technology, I knew the best parts to use, including the most durable and sleek metal to use for the hilt, how to shape the hilt for my own use, the best energy cell to utilize, and most importantly, what kind of crystal to use. Because lightsaber crystal sites have been declared off-limits or destroyed, I had to get this one from another source: A Krayt Dragon.

The emerald-green blade, a far darker shade than that of my helmet illumination, ignites, travelling through the man's abdomen and can be seen exiting his body on the other side. The cantina silences as the man dies slowly. I casually heave the man off the blade with my other hand. He collapses in a most undignified way, now dead. The other heads that have turned my way now continue to stare. I have to diffuse the situation now.

"Anyone else," I announce in a monotone voice, loud enough to be heard, but dangerous all the same.

Everyone immediately turn their heads away and back to their own business. My lips press tightly together in a neutral expression. Well, I might as well ruined my chances of a relaxation time. Better leave before I overstay my welcome.

As I turn to leave, find myself blocked by a group of three. They look at me with a critical edge, and I can see that they are tense, prepared to attack at a moment's notice. I watch them real carefully. They want something from me.

"Hey, we got a problem," a female says, a Zabrak female.

"Yes," I ask annoyingly.

"You just killed one of our team," a Rodian says in his native tongue.

"He was a nuisance. Better that he is dead anyway," I say nonchalantly.

"Be that as it may," a human female continues, "we needed him, and now we need you, Zinthrax."

It's really not surprising that one of them know my hunter name, but that does present certain problems for me. The Hutts view me as one of their best, and to have be handed over by the authorities would cause a needless amount of future headaches for them, which could result in a lot of bad things happening, I guess. I could simply try to avoid this situation and clear my name from the authorities should these three try to report me. It would be easy, and painless, and no one would be the wiser.

"I have no time for games. I have more important game to hunt," I dismiss.

"No, you're going to help us," the female continues, "unless you want to explain to the authorities."

"You do realized that demanding me to do anything is asking to die," I say menacingly.

"Comes with the territory," the Zabrak retorts.

A good head, or heads, this crew has. I could say yes for the sake of getting them off my back, and plus, I might get to do something interesting, but I doubt it.

"What do I get from it," I demand.

They look at each other, and with some eye contact and a nod or two, they turn their attention back to me. These guys must know each other very well.

"You know the drill. You get a cut," the Zabrak says.

"That is a start, but I need something else," I begin, "because I could do most jobs and get full price."

"You do your job well and maybe we'll owe you," the Rodian says.

Not exactly the most original idea that I have ever heard of, but I suppose people owing me favors is long overdue. I can get a kick out of outclassing everyone in terms of fighting. How do I know this? It's just one of my instincts.

I do a slight nod and cross my arms, indicating that I am following. The Rodian and the Zabrak female turn to leave, leaving me with the human female. staying behind me, watching me. I roll my eyes and follow the two in front of me. Being babysat is arguably the most aggravating thing to endure, but I got myself into this mess, so I've really only got myself to blame.

SO we all exit the cantina in a most timely fashion, no one wanting to speak, which was fine by me. Small talk is not one of my strong suits anyway. OUr walk takes us back to the spaceport. It was during this time that I send a secret signal through my wrist computer to CX-66 on the _Killobyte _to inform him that I am travelling on a different ship and he should use my locator beacon to track me and follow me.

Once all four of us are in the spaceport, we make various twists and turns to docking bay 77. Once I see the ship, I give a nod. It's a pretty standard freighter ship, what I would expect that most hunters travel in. It is light and mobile, but also not very obvious, the perfect means to travel in space without painting a target on our own heads. Waiting there is a man dressed in a black suit of armor, with his helmet on. I do some quick thinking and I press a button on my wrist and I can feel the sensation of metal beginning to unfold and completely cover my head. I can see that my vision slightly tints before clearing up. My heads-up display shows me the status of the full suit of armor at the power right-hand corner and a motion detector at the left side. Because my shields are not turned on, the bar next to the 3D suit status, the bar is empty.

All heads turn my way as the helmet makes a slight noise. They regard me for a second before I turn to face the other masked person. I'm guessing him to be male judging by his physical make.

"Let me guess," he mused, "this guy killed Kyro?"

"Yeah, Hardly surprising in the first place."

Seems that they have had this happen before.

"You, I know," The man in black says, "You're Zinthrax the Mando bounty hunter."

"Good guess," I deadpan. "but enough about me. What's the job?"

"The only thing we got is a cargo delivery," the armored black guy says, "that's it, and it's for the Empire"

What a way to describe a job. Doing so in one sentence. The only problem is that I'm suppose to hate the Empire, or at least Archangel is suppose to hate them. Curse my luck. Just when I thought this could not get any worse than I had already made it.

I do a slight sigh, the helmet picking up the noise and causing the sigh that they hear to be appear distorted and synthetic.

"It will have to do," my distorted and robot voice says.

"Then gear up. By the way, the name's Kolyar. The Zabrak is Ryleen, the human is Kathlia, and the Rodian is Zeedra."

**00000000000000000000**

I nod, instantly memorizing the names and taking note of their faces. Best to remember their names so that I do not have to ask for them again.

I looked around at the assembled _Ghost_ crew. They were at work again, and when they were, everyone got serious, well except, perhaps, Ezra. That kid sometimes didn't know when it was time to act serious, not that he couldn't be serious, but he still had some issues working with others. The others, including myself hadn't really expected anything less from the kid. He was still reckless and a bit too eager to prove himself and sometimes take really unnecessary risks. Honestly, I did sympathize with him in some way, but he took it to levels that might just one day cause more trouble than it's worth. I can't really be bothered to keep constant tabs on Ezra. I can rely on him to do his part, but not to do it according to the plan.

Actually, Kanan's plans are actually pretty bad. I can't count how many times we've had to improvise and change the plan when something gets in our way. Sometimes, I wish that we had a more concrete idea about what we do and we stick to it, but then again, Kanan is a Jedi, so maybe that evens out everything, but if there's one thing I know, it's that he's no ordinary Jedi, and that compared to his Jedi Order, he's probably really wild. The thought of him training Ezra to become Jedi makes me somewhat amused. Ezra has enough trouble trying to remain focused. I don't watch their training sessions, but I know enough. Whenever I see Ezra sliding across the glass, I know something's gone wrong.

I turn my eyes to watch Ezra, and I make eye contact with him, and I see that really goofy grin on his face. I roll my eyes and slightly scowl. There he goes again, trying to be real charming, but Ezra's still a kid as far as I'm concerned, not exactly the same as me. Besides, he's not really my type. I let him have his fun, but I always shoot him down in the most polite way that I can, but that doesn't mean I have to like it any better.

_Mir'osik, _I think in Mando'a.

As all of us are assembled, Chopper activates his holoprojector. Kanan begins to explain our newest mission.

"Alright," he began, "we just got intel. The planet Raxus Prime is the source of an Imperial Star Destroyer ship yard. Supplies and materials are being delivered from Corellia to these coordinates."

"Another supply swindle," Ezra muttered. "Isn't there something better to do?"

"Ezra, don't you understand," Kanan argued. "This is a chance not only to take some useful supplies, but also to swindle the Empire of resources needed to build their fleet, and we can destroy what we can't take."

"It would certainly get us higher up on Imperial's hit list," I add.

"I say we do it. We got to continue hitting the Empire where it hurts the most," Hera agrees.

Chopper beeps his excitement with a few beeps.

"This transport will be protected by patrols," Kanan explained, "but we know that they have little to no defenses in the ship itself. We can sneak in, take down the guards, and find out what to take and what to destroy."

"Wouldn't it be better to just get rid of it all," Ezra commented.

"No, we should take what we can," I interject. "If we take the supplies, it will basically be a big insult to the Empire."

"Just hope that the plan doesn't change again," Zeb says as he watches the projection.

"You guys know I'm here, right," Kanan asks.

"We know," Zeb and I say, both in amusement and in seriousness.

**Short Chapter, but I promise that it will get better. As always, REVIEW. Tell me what was good and what was bad. REVIEW so that I can be inspired to keep writing. Favorite, follow, and subscribe too!**

**Apologies for the really**

**Thanks to darksawr for reviewing and noticing. If you haven't read darksawr's story "The Mandalorian Rebel", I suggest you go read it. It's a good way to inspire you to begin a Sabine X OC story.**

**This chapter was inspired by the song "Papercut" by Linkin Park.**

**Peace out!**


	5. Chapter 5: Mandalorian vs Archangel

Chapter 6: An Atypical Routine Supply Run

**In Hyperspace**

** En Route to Raxus Prime**

** 3648 ATC**

For the first time in many years, I am defending cargo. You would think that it is the most boring job in the galaxy, but in truth, defended cargo has many ways to end, either with it being stolen or it being destroyed. The former happens more than the latter. No destruction, no killing sprees, no enemies, and no noise whatsoever, but I would be a complete idiot to think that it would last. If the Empire hires people to protect their cargo, they're certainly expecting someone to hijack it, most like the "Rebel Scum" as the Imperials so eloquently put it.

I turn to observe the team we have. Although each of them have their own separate careers and dealings, they appear that they can coordinate well as a team. In the bounty hunting business, you have to work with a small group at least once. Usually, that means no more than ten other hunters work with you. For some odd reason, it takes very little for a group of mercenaries to work unanimously. It takes a regular militia squad months and even years to work like an organic creature. Perhaps it is what is on the line if we fail that motivates us to cooperate. I do not know, but we might as well be complete strangers and we could still function up to par.

Kolyar, also known as, the Black Jacket, is more of an assassin than anyone here. I do not know much about him, but I do know that he is extremely difficult to track without the right equipment and the right skills. He wears black armor, and has never been seen without black attire of some kind. He may wear other colors, but black must be apparent. For what reason, I can only imagine.

The Zabrak, Ryleen, is a rare breed/ She is one of the few Zabrak that I have seen that sports long hair tied into one pony tail. She appears to have been training for most of her life as her body is well-muscled and well-built, but still retaining a feminine shape. No doubt that she has more likely than not used her body as a means to complete her previous missions. She has a knack for knives, be it throwing knives, combat knives, sheathed knives, you name it, she has it. The only blaster she has is a single sidearm, very basic and very stark in design.

The Rodian, Zeedra, is more mysterious to me. Rodians are generally not as readable as the other species in the galaxy. It doesn't really help that they have those giant dark eyes, which makes reading emotions from them all the more difficult. Zeedra wears more heavy armor and carries an arsenal of tech weapons. He's dressed to fight a technological war, with incendiary rounds loaded in his blaster, cryo freezers, missiles and rockets, and shielding technology that is more durable than most. He obvious is the tank of the group, and he is not afraid to boast about his murder toys and machines.

The human woman Kathlia is dressed lightly, with only a few armor plates here and there, possessing two blasters and a single rifle on her back. She carries no wrist weapons or any other concealed weapons. Her face reads that of a predator seeing how to kill and eat her victims. She knows who she can take, and who she cannot take. Her mind is on overdrive. You can never really know what to expect from her, whether it be a senseless beating or a calculated shot. Like the Zabrak, her body is toned, but not nearly as much as everyone else. Her body is easily the more likely to entice victims to their doom, but she has that look that suggests that she would rather die than be involved with anyone romantically.

Finally, there is Zinthrax, also known as me, Archangel, adorned in full combat armor, but not with the intention of being a tank. Apart from my wrist gauntlet weapons, I have my lightsaber and my foldable bow with energy arrows that I can create from my suit power source. I have no blasters with me and I left my sniper rifle in board the _Killobyte. _I certainly was not planning for this, but I would be an inadequate killer if I could not adapt to the situation at hand, so I have to make do with the hand that I am dealt.

The ride goes in relative silence as I play holochess with Kathlia. I do admit, she is good, as she has managed to put up a good defense and solid offense. Her pieces dare mine to make a move into her traps and bait. I see them, but I know that if I try to lure her into a trap, I risk losing some important pieces, but if I remain defenses, I will be backed into a corner and will likely not be given much of a chance to escape.

With the best poker face I can manage, I carefully move one of my pieces into a seemingly pointless spot on the board. I hope that it might make Kathlia fall into a trap, either that or she takes one of my smaller pieces, which gives me a chance to build a defense that she cannot possibly break through without significant losses.

She surprises me by mimicking my move. Kathlia is trying to wait me out, seeing if she can get me riled up so I make mistakes, but I am better than that. If she does not play aggressively, then I will.

I make a move that will get me into a position to make a swift and decisive offensive, ensuring that I can take out enough of her defenses to open the lane for my more heavy-hitting pieces. I will most definitely lose a piece or two doing so but the tradeoff is worth it.

I carefully move one of my pieces into a boxing maneuver, then settle in to see what Kathlia does next. I think that my pieces are not obvious, but I leave all possibilities open. I do not want to be hopeful only to have my plan altered by an ingenious counterattack.

I am surprised when she moves one of her pieces and exploits one of the less than obvious openings that I thought that would be overlooked

"Very clever," I mutter.

"You're not so bad yourself," she says with a smirk.

Although my helmet hides my facial expression, I am feeling frustrated. I never like losing at these games. I never lose games. The mock is not making my attitude any more positive.

"You have obviously played this game before," I muse.

"Well of course," Kathlia scoffs, "spent the better part of my life playing this game. Nothing better to do. Gotta learn something after all that time."

It is then that Kolyar comes into the scene. He regards the game for a few seconds, nodding with approval.

"We're approaching Corellia," he says, "get your gear ready. The details will be explained once we're aboard."

He then moves one of my bishop and knocks over Kathlia's king. Kathlia grits her teeth, clearly not taking the loss very well.

"Checkmate," Kolyar says casually.

I take a moment to analyze the board and wonder how I missed that move. After careful consideration, I discover that unwittingly, I had placed Kathlia's pieces in a way that lined up her kind piece into the path of my bishop. I felt a little blindsided that I hadn't seen that coming. I suppose that means I have some polishing up to do on this game.

"Very good," I murmur with a nod.

Zeedra is the first to get up and head towards the ship exit, followed by Ryleen, then Kolyar. Kathlia and I are the last to get up. I hold out a hand to her to shake for the well-played game. She stares at my hand for a moment, then firmly grasps it and I notice the strength in her hand. We then turn to quickly make haste in following the others. I feel a hitch in the ship's movement. We've landed.

Zeedra is the first to move, his heavy armor making some noise as the armor makes contact with each piece. Ryleen is next, her strides purposeful and single-minded, her hands at her sides, prepared to attack at a moment's notice. Kolyar is next, his movements fluid and economic. He seems to be a person that believes in minimal resources to achieve maximum results. I can respect that in a person. Kathlia move next, her moves imitating that of a predator on the hunt, free, but careful. She clearly is still on edge about the game, but she does not appear to be mad at anyone in particular. I follow last, my eyes watching the team. I do not trust them, but I know to put aside my personal vendettas for the sake of the mission, even if the mission has no meaning to me.

As the ramp is lowered, I take note of the Imperial officer waiting for us. The officer stands completely straight and tall, his uniform spick and span with not a single flaw. He stands with a neutral expression. In other words, your standard Imperial, stuffy, boring, and law-abiding to incredible levels.

"Hunters," he greets, "you are on time. The delivery and its escort await you. The mission details will be explained once there."

As we make the trek to the delivery convoy, I take note of the few Imperial personnel assigned to guard and escort duty. There are but the necessary stormtroopers needed to protect the pilot and the flight crew, not a very good means of defending, but that is why we are here I suppose. Five bounty hunters trained in different special and unique ways makes for a team that can take down small armies without aid. We are the superior breed.

As we ascend onto a standard Imperial carrier vessel, I take note of the cargo. My scanner determines the contents of each crates, their properties, their likely or confirmed planet or location of origin, what its uses are in standard galactic society, and possible illegal uses by other parties. My scanners also bring up the personal files of each Imperial Stormtrooper, Imperial officers, and other personnel. I forget how much fun it is to be able to have this scanner. It really helps when you are caught between a rock and a hard spot, although this probably one of the most useless means to spend credits, as this highly-technological scanner means nothing when I, myself possess a genius intellect, and I only need to have done something once or several times to get it right permanently. The scans tell me that these supplies will be most definitely be used for the continued construction of Star Destroyers. I can see why this would be a source of potential trouble.

The Imperial-I class Star Destroyers are the backbone of the Empire's fleet. According to the information that I ciphered from Imperial databases, the Emperor secretly has hundreds of these ships in his arsenal. Because there are so many shipyards in service to the Empire, the output they are going on for over fifteen years or so, they have produced a fleet that easily dwarfs any other fleet in terms of firepower and numbers. They are simply staggering. I have even gotten a vague bit of data that supposedly, the Emperor has also approved the creation of a ship that is bigger than anything that the galaxy has ever seen, a ship that could change the fate of ship-making.

I do not know any more, but if there is one thing I do know, the Emperor is not known for idle promises, He is more than capable of delivering all that he says, whether it be now or ten years from now. Maybe I can find out more later, but for now, I have a job to do.

Although my mind wanders, I still make sure to pay attention to my path. We have arrived at a briefing room. It is relatively small to be for ten people, five being us hunters, and the other five Imperials, but I do not complain. I have no reason to. After I hear a few taps, a holoprojector comes up.

"These supplies," the officer begins, "are to be delivered to this location. From there, the Star Destroyer awaiting you and the cargo will give you the pay."

"What sort of resistance are we expecting," Kolyar asked.

"Just some no-nothing rebels, they are of no consequence. They are the types to cause trouble just to spit in the Empire's face."

They sound like my kind of people.

"So nothing special then," Kolyar concluded.

"At least we believe it to be so," the officer replied, "but we are not taking any chances. That is why we have hired you."

The officer paused, and in that instant, I knew that something was missing. It seemed rather nonsensical to send extremely important supplies into space, with a very scantily-clade escort and protection. No one would risk this much exposure, unless it served a purpose, so in true Archangel fashion, my mind quickly stumbles upon a revelation.

"There is no shipment, is there," I question. "Those crates and storage units contain sensor units to mimic material detection and fool scanners into thinking it is a physical material."

"Very perceptive," the officer comments, "but yes, there is no shipment. This journey into the outer rim is intended to crack down on some recent rebel activity within the past few weeks. With attacks mounting and our operations being disrupted, we have to stop the problem at the source."

"So in essence, we're here to lure them into a trap," Kolyar followed up.

"Yes, but in the event that the rebels gain ground, you are authorized to destroy the transport, as a last resort."

"You make the rules, we'll follow," Kolar shrugged his shoulders casually.

"Very good. The shipment is ready for departure. You may station aboard any part of the transport vessel as you see fit."

We leave the briefing room to return to the cargo holding bays to discuss how best to defend each of the critical parts of the ship. The discussion is short because we all are familiar with the layout of the ship.

"Zeeba and I will stay at the engine center," Kolyar explains, "Kathlia, you're guarding the flight personnel."

"Ryleen," he points to the Zabrak, "you guard the "supplies" with Zinthrax. If you guys get overwhelmed, only one of us can come assist. Set up traps and monitoring devices wherever possible. around your area. Remain in constant contact."

Each hunter nodded to each other and split up. I lead the way back to the cargo bays with Ryleen in tow. I say nothing, and she says nothing. I retrieve a throwing knife from one of my armor slots and begin to do an elaborate twirling motion with my hands as we enter the cargo area and begin to assess for critical points and the cargo of most importance. All the while, my mind subconsciously continues to spin the knife in my hand, with the only sound being the motion and the kinetic energy. I then balance the tip of the knife, allowing the knife to rest there, not moving and perfectly balanced on my index finger. I then move my hand and allow the knife to drop a few centimeters before plucking it out of the air.

It was going to be a fun day indeed. It might not be challenging, but it would at least provide something to keep my mind busy.

**00000000000000000000**

"Alright quick rundown," Kanan said, "once we're in position, we split up. Ezra and I will hit the main engine room of the carrier while Sabine and Zeb will hit cargo bays. Standard Imperial protocol says that supplies for Star Destroyers are protected by canisters and cargo units with locked pass codes and encrypted keys."

"Be warned once again," Hera chimed in, "we don't have all the time in the world to do this. Try to get back here as quickly as possible."

It was obvious that the warning was geared towards Ezra and Zeb more than anyone. Even if they had proven themselves capable in battle, their childish side could prove to be detrimental to the safety of everyone, and they both acknowledged with a grunt. They didn't like to be reminded, but if it meant that they took things seriously, then all the better. The two had become fast friends with each other and were generally good working together.

Sabine had busied herself with polishing her helmet visor and making sure that everything was in working order. She had all the gear, weapons, and explosives that she could carry. This was going to be an intense op, and she was going to make sure to do things in the most flashy way possible.

Everyone gave a nod of approval and began to tense there, waiting for the right. Ezra was just as carefree as ever as the _Phantom_ cruised along. Chopper had been left to pilot the _Ghost_. He would be remaining on station for pick-up once the op was done. The _Phantom_ had been outfitted with a temporary cloaking device intended to fool almost all scanners. It would last them enough time to get close to the Imperial transport, and by the time they had arrived, they would be attached to the ship where they would hide until further notice.

"Anyone want to tell a story now," Ezra commented, "It would make the trip less tense."

"Kid," Sabine said, "we're already making a story now. We don't need stories."

"Seconded," Zeb added. "We've got enough stories to last us a good long time."

Kanan didn't say anything, but he completely agreed with the others. All of them had their fair share of stories, enough to last a lifetime or more, and right now, they were about to undergo one of the most daring, most dangerous operations they had ever done. Imperial transports such as these were heavily armed and guarded, but it was a potential chance to cripple one of the shipyards constructing the backbone of the Imperial fleet.

Even as they were all seated, they could see the Imperial Lancer-class frigate. It was a rather sizeable ship for its class, and Kanan had asked that everyone do a thorough study of the ship layout. Should anyone get in a jam, they would know where to go. It was best to always be prepared.

"Approaching the frigate," Hera announced. "Be ready. I'm denying access back on until you all return."

"Roger that," Kanan acknowledged.

Everyone got themselves into position. Sabine quickly placed her helmet on her head and did a quick HUD check before retrieving both of her blasters from their holsters. Zeb quickly armed himself with his bow rifle, aimed loosely in front of him. Ezra had his energy slingshot, not a particularly devastating weapon, but it would serve his needs. Kanan had his blaster on hand as well as his lightsaber, though he was certain that he would have to use it much,

A slight hitch in the _Phantom's _movement told everyone that they had landed. They all got up from their seats, save for Hera, who pushed a few buttons to open the door of the _Phantom. _The door of the frigate remained shut but Kanan was quick to use the Force to open in.

Two stormtroopers, guarding the entrance, turned around and took aim, but they were too slow, as Sabine delivered a quick kick to knock one unconscious, while she shot the other in the head. She did a clean sweep of the hallway with her blasters, It was somewhat dark, but her helmet allowed her to see in the partial darkness. After a few seconds of checking, Sabine gave an all-clear signal, and the others followed suit. The ship might not be aware of their presence, but it wouldn't be long before they would be detected, whether in a firefight or the stormtroopers failing to give their scheduled reports.

"Move," Kanan ordered.

Everyone took off in a run down the narrow corridors, their eyes and senses watching for additional stormtroopers, As they rounded a few corners, expecting troopers, they found none, which surprised them. Usually, a ship like this had more guards, but they weren't going to complain. Less resistance meant more time to complete their objective.

As they came to a three-way intersection, Kanan pointed to the indications as to the direction of the main command deck, engineering, and cargo holds.

"Split up," Kanan said, "maintain minimal comm chatter."

As they all gave a nod of approval, they each split to their respective parts.

Sabine and Zeb took off as fast as they could manage, watching for signs of stormtroopers and watching their backs for any ambushes. A couple of troopers were guarding the main entrance to the cargo bay, but they were quick to be put down by some shots. As they approached the door, Sabine gave Zeb a quick nod. He nodded too, his rifle ready to take down any target in its path. The door swiped open and both rushed in, weapons at ready, only to find...no one guarding it.

The room was completely devoid of any guards. They were the only two in the room. The room was filled with crates and giant storage units of varying sizes. Each was blinking and winking with data flowing through it, prepared to resist all attempts to access its content. The area was dim and only a few necessary lights were on, giving enough illumination to see dimly. For some reason, Sabine found this to be strangely unnerving. Zeb, too, look really unsure about this. Something about this was not right.

"Spectre Five to Spectre One," Sabine keyed to her com, "We've reached the cargo area. No guards, but lots of stuff here. No way we're going to be able to find a way to get it all."

"_...acknowledged. Assess what we can take. We're about to hit the enginee****. Get th* ******* and ****..."_

"Spectre One come in," Sabine said again. She tapped the side of her helmet.

The reception was static, but even that winked out of existence. They were being jammed. Someone already knew that they were here, either that or someone had been expecting trouble in general. Sabine hit the side of helmet again just to make sure that it wasn't her equipment, then she did a quick diagnostic, only to find that all com channels were being blocked.

Sabine gave Zeb a shake of her head. "We'd better just see what we can grab."

"On it," Zeb spoke. He was quick to move to the nearest crate, opening its contents and examining it.

Sabine, with her blaster still equipped, checked their sixes. The room was clear, which was not right. There was always a heavy stormtrooper presence in cargo areas, especially cargo this important. The room should have also been lit as clear as day, not dark like this. It was like a ghost had taken shelter here and made it this ominous on purpose, waiting for his prey.

A slight ticking noise caused Sabine to raise her arms to aim, but she saw nothing, and her scanners were picking up nothing unusual. but she knew that someone else was clearly here. She didn't know who, but she wouldn't be taken off guard. Her eyes carefully scanned her surroundings, taking in each shadow, each crate, each storage unit, everything that could help her see who it was. If she had a choice, she would like to blow this stuff up to find the culprit.

Suddenly, that choice was no longer hers to make. From out of nowhere, an explosion ripped through the room, the flames blazing up quickly. Sabine and Zeb quickly moved towards each other, backs to each other. Then, without warning, Sabine felt herself shoved roughly against a large storage unit.

She was quick to deliver two punches, but one was blocked while the other was parried. She then delivered a kick, her foot connecting with someone. There was no grunt or noise of pain, just a shadow moving. She turned to find Zeb, only to see him being engaged by someone else she couldn't quite see. She found herself being slammed into full-force by the mysterious assailant. Sabine threw a left hook, but only to hit pure air. Her head turned to meet her attacker.

He, or at least that was what Sabine thought, was clearly not an Imperial. His armor was nothing like she had ever seen. It was a warrior's armor, but instead of being only durable-looking, it looked ceremonial, very elegant and beautiful. It glowed an alien-green color. The helmet, too, was of an unfamiliar design, displaying four glowing light bolt eyes, also glowing green like his armor. The helmet was hooded, only allowing Sabine to see his "face."

She quickly snapped out of her observatory look, as her enemy closed the distance, grabbing her into a choke-hold. Struggling briefly, she rammed her elbow into his guts, hoping to wind him. His grip relented slightly and she had enough leverage to kick, quickly putting a few meters of distance. She then went on the offensive, delivering another fist. He then decided to take flip back, using his armor boots to snag her fist, attempting to collide her with the floor. She quickly recovered, landing on her feet, but she was not fast enough to stop the fist into her helmet quickly, disorienting her. She then found herself. spinning around and the found herself on the ground. Knowing that another strike was imminent, she rolled to the side, and a metal boot connecting to the ground where she had been milliseconds ago. She then flipped upright, ducking her head as a gauntlet tried to hit her again, but she was quicker to respond, dodging each incoming strike.

Sabine realized that this was the first intense fight she had been through in a long time. She hadn't been able to land a single hit and she was struggling to keep up with her opponent's fighting style. She found herself fighting defensively, his strikes rapid, chaotic, strong, and unpredictable. For some reason, in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but feel that he was holding out on her would question this nagging feeling, but now was not the time to mull that over. She needed a new strategy.

Deciding to retreat, she took off in a sprint, taking out one of her thermal detonators and tossing it towards the hunter. Predictably, he dodged to the sides, to avoid the explosion. Sabine then threw another detonator, and instead of veering off to the sides, he surged forward, subtracting the distance between them. Sabine then turned and fired her blaster. Surprisingly, he was fast, and dodged every single shot she threw his way. She then watched as he raised both his arms and quickly realized what he was about to do. She quickly dropped to the ground to avoid the twin flame throwers. The intense heat grazed her armor, and her HUD flashed a warning. Still on the ground, she fired her two blasters again, but her shots failed to connect. She rose to her feet, sheathed both weapons, and shifted her head to narrowly escape a fist. She then put all her strength into a backhand, causing his head to snap to the right. That split second was all she needed to grab his arm and flip him over, but he quickly snagged her, taking her down with him. They both crashed into each other as they landed hard.

After Sabine recovered, she found herself face-to-face, or rather helmet-to-helmet, with him. She lay on top of him straddling him, his arms trapped underneath her weight. Her arms were on either side of him. Neither of them moved, nor made a single sound. For some reason, Sabine was compelled to look into eyes to see who was behind it. She shifted her body so that her helmet looked directly into his. He said nothing, simply staring back at her,

Then, he uttered a familiar language.

"Mando'ad draar digu," the voice said.

Sabine froze, the words processing in her head. The accent, the pronunciation was fluent, and perfect, not a sound out of place.

"Mando'ad," she whispered.

"Kandosii," he replies, a serious tone apparent

**And so begins the chemistry. I don't know if this came out as wierd to anyone, but her, we all have to start somewhere. Anyway, the romance will be slow and deliberate. I plan on taking time to develop this romance because I believe that most good romance stories need to be taken slow and seriously.**

**But in other news, REVIEW. Tell me what went good and bad. Any questions considering character development and story details can be elaborated in detail via PM. I will update once I hit TWENTY-FIVE or more reviews. Also, excuse the grammar.**

**Thanks for reading. Peace to all, and remember the Resol'nare. Glory to Mandalore!**

**Translation:**

**Resol'nare - The six tenets of Mandalorian culture**

**Mando'ad - Mandalorian**

**Mando'ad draar digu - A Mandalorian never forgets**

**Kandosii - Well-done.**


	6. Chapter 6: Fighting for Purpose

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Disney Does. Archangel is my property.**

Chapter 6: Fighting for Purpose

**Hyperspace**

**En route to Raxus Prime**

** 3648 ATC**

** Unknown Time**

**Archangel P.O.V**

For the first time in a long time, I was at a loss. I had never been beaten in a one-on one fight before. I was always the victor. My fighting style relied on speed, maneuverability, and unpredictability to overcome my opponent. I utilized methods of attack that most people would never think to use, which left opponents incapable of putting up any sort of defenses. I had been training in hand-to-hand from the earliest of ages. By age ten, I could aptly defend myself for an indefinite period of time. By age thirteen, I could easily take down other lesser warriors in mere seconds without so much as a scratch. The Star Forge pieces in mer only served to enhance my combat capabilities to the point of being superhuman, far stronger than any average human or alien. I was not easily beaten, but I have yet to find an opponent that I could not defeat or kill.

That was why, as I lay on the ground, defeated by my opponent, I was stunned. This Mandalorian woman had bested me with a tactic that I failed to anticipate. Her moveset was predictable, almost painfully so, but more importantly, she obviously was still very inexperienced, clearly having been playing this game for less time than myself, and yet, for all of her inexperience and her rather simple fighting style, there was something about her that struck me as unusual. I did not know what it was, but it was my mind, or maybe the Force, that told me that somehow she was more than she seemed. That backhand followed by that tackle had caught me off guard, but I made sure that I was not the only one to go down. In that moment, I knew that despite all of her perceived flaws, she had the potential to become so much more. The making of any truly skilled individual, whether it be in combat, intelligence, the Force, what have you, one must be predictable before becoming unpredictable, at least that is what I believe.

After a moment of confusion, I found myself in the most awkward of positions: me lying on the ground like a dead person, with my opponent on top of me. What was even more awkward was the fact that she did not move off me immediately, or at all. She shifted her body to meet my armored head, her body still precariously close to mine. She was trying to see more than what was plainly visible, that much I could see. I was at a loss for words, but then I decided to see if she was truly Mandalorian. If she was, the she would understand the words that came out of my mouth.

"Mando'ad draar digu," I say crisply.

She falters, and in that moment, I should have thrown her off of me and taken her out of the game, but despite my mind screaming at me to not be distracted by a fellow Mandalorian, I could not bring myself to do so. I could easily throw her off myself, even if my arms were trapped underneath her legs, but I wanted to see how this would play out.

"Mando'ad," she said softly.

The word was spoken with clarity and shock. I did not smile, nor did I really care to show any signs of happiness because I was not happy. I had not seen a Mandalorian for years. Yes, I am Mandalorian, but for a long time, I have found myself estranged from my heritage, found myself disagreeing with the six tenets, found myself becoming more and more distant from what I once was. Perhaps I am no longer Mandalorian. Maybe I am a person who is just fluent in Mando'a. My mouth speaks before my mind can get a grip.

"Kandosii," I say, mustering a seriousness that I usually speak with.

She is quick to realize the awkward situation that we are in, and she rises to her feet, I rise too, but now the situation is confounding. We are still tense because we are still foes in this time frame, but we do not attack each other like we did before. We stare, me looking into her visor, and her staring into my "eyes." Neither of us were willing to speak, and neither of us were willing to stow our weapons, so I decide on the next course of action: to disappear.

I tap my hands to my wrist computer, and in a flash, I disappear from both visual and sensory detection. No one would be able to find me. Not only am I masked visually, but also auditorily. My sounds are completely blocked, making myself as close to a real living ghost as possible. Even though I am invisible to everyone else, my visor still registers my physical appearance, but even I could fight without being able to see myself, just like anyone is able to eat without really needing to see their eating utensil. As soon as I disappear, I decide that it is time to make an exit, but not with my "team". No, they mean nothing to me. They are more than capable of defending themselves. The only reason I joined this operation to begin with was to rid myself of their annoying pestering. Now this attack has given me the opportune time.

My sounds barely audible, I begin to transmit a message to the _Killoybte _to retrieve me. The ship has been following the Imperial ships since we left from Corellia. It was really a simple task, and the Imperials have no technology that can even come close to detecting my ship. With my escape route planned, I make my way to one of the escape pods. It is a rather difficult place for a make-shift airlock, but I am not in any way choosy with escape routes, I was never trained to be demanding.

My HUD displays a small video feed of CX-66 as he pilots the ship. His movements are cool and calculated as he pilots the ship.

"_Receiving acknowledgement master. I will arrive in but a moment."_

With a curt nod, I keep my senses open for any potential attackers or any sign of the rest of the attacking crew. I know that it takes more than two assailants to attack a vessel of this size, even with the rather minimal security. It puzzles me a bit to find an unusual duo. A Mandalorian woman and a Lasat male. The slaughter of the Lasats was, in my opinion, one of the most unnecessary and brutal doings of the Empire. I have no problem with killing. It is what I was born to do, what I have been training to do, and what I do as a profession, but taking the lives of those who have no affiliation or association with my enemies or the people I dislike serves me no purpose and is not worth the effort. I do admit out of the hundreds of thousands of lives that I have taken directly and indirectly, some have been innocent bystanders or people that need not be dragged into my battles. It was regrettable, but I do not apologize for something that I cannot undo.

The sound of a familiar engine sound tells me that the _Killobyte_ is outside, waiting. So, I push a button on one of the control panels outside, and the escape pod launches. The door seals shut, but it is not a problem to deal with as I hack it open with my lightsaber. The emerald blade then allows atmosphere to vent. The doors slowly are sucked into space and me along with it, but I have made sure to seal my armor. Now adrift in space, I aim my right wrist cable shooter and score a direct hit onto the _Killobyte's_ landing platform.

Now I can get back to more important things.

**00000000000000000000**

**Sabine P.O.V**

I tense when I see that the mysterious mercenary disappear from sight completely. There's not trace if him, and it doesn't take me much time to process that this guy can turn invisible. I am more tense now than ever. Even though this guy may be Mandalorian, he was still working for the Empire, and even though she could respect a good warrior, she could not agree with working for the Empire. To be able to work for the kind of monsters that were the Imperials was, in my eyes, one of the worst things to do, and yet, I know that any bounty hunter only works for whoever pays them the most. They probably have no loyalties to anything or anyone besides money and themselves. Any rational being would think that way.

But I couldn't tell from looking into an alien visor alone. Staring into his visor, seeing no reaction other than his words. In that instant, I wanted to understand more about him. It sounded strange, but this urge to understand more was overwhelming, but for now my curiosity would have to wait until I found a better time to mull this over. Besides, I have the others to think about, not that I'm terribly worried. Ezra is about the only one that concerns me, not just his attitude towards how we operate, but how he fights, his weapon of choice (which is probably one of the most ineffective "weapons" that I've seen), but most importantly of all, his secrets. Although I didn't ask explicitly, I somehow knew that he was affected by the Empire in general. It's like the Imperials are more than just people he dislike. It's like they're his enemy in all ways, and in most cases, there's nothing wrong with that. Everyone on the Ghost has been affected by the Empire, all in bad ways, but Ezra is the youngest of the lot, and the most headstrong. He can be more trouble than good, even if his heart is in the right place.

I sigh and get myself back into action. I can Zeb still locked in combat. That makes me turn to look at our mission clock. It's only been a few minutes, and yet that battle felt like far longer. This whole mission has been rubbing me the wrong way. Call it whatever you like, but there's something wrong. To confirm my suscpicions, I stop by one of the supply units and begin doing a scan. A few seconds tell me that the supplies are real, but that doesn't make me feel better, so I decide to physically inspect the insides. I pop open the hatch of one of the larger crates with some effort.

In that instant, I see nothing except for a device. I take a closer look at it and realize something: this is a prototype emitter, the kind that the Imperials use to fool enemies into believing that specific object, element, or whatever material, is in the crate. If this crate contains the device, I can be sure that the Imps have also rigged the other crates. We've been duped.

"Spectre five to spectre one," I key on the com. "Abort the mission. Supplies and crates are a no go. They're fakes."

I then realize that he probably didn't hear me because of the comm silence, but then static cuts in and Kanan be heard, albeit barely.

"_****, spectre five,"_ Kanan responds. _"We're ****** ** stall these ****** hunters from blowing *** engine co**."_

"Copy that," I say. "We're on the way."

I draw my blasters and watch around the corner for Zeb. He comes out from the open, his bow rifle out, the ends glowing with energy. I give him a tilt of my head. I don't see that female zabrak female anywhere. Maybe she ran off like that other hunter. This is unlike bounty hunters, but better for us. I won't complain.

"Nothing in the crates," Zeb says.

"Same here," I say. "We gotta go before this ship is rigged to blow."

"I knew this was too good," Zeb growled.

We're annoyed and we're angry. The mission could go south at any time, not that it can't go any more south than it already has. Besides, blowing the ship up isn't really that bad of an idea. We've got nothing to lose anyway, besides our lives. I shudder slightly at that. No, I'm not about to die here, and no one else will. We've survived far worse odds...at least I think so. So I stuff my insecurities in the back of my head as we leave, the door behind us snaps shut with a small hissing sound.

As we run through the boring colors of the hallway, I find myself watching every corner and long hallway extra carefully for ambushes. Usually, I wouldn't bother because only stormtroopers ever guard these hallways, but given that there were only a few bucketheads to begin with and also given the fact that bounty hunters are here, they could be tricking us at any time. They're a tricky bunch, and despite us posing as hunters, they're far more resourceful and trained than the Imperials, but it can't really be any worse than an Inquisitor. That's about the only guy who worries me.

The sound of blaster fire and a lightsaber tells me and Zeb that we're close to Ezra and Kanan. The sound of explosions also give me this bad feeling. With Kanan, things can go down really badly in a flash, and with that comes a lot of Imps, but I suppose that's the price we pay for having a change in plan.

As the door to engineering opens, I see a bolt coming my way, and I duck my head, raising my blaster to find my target. I can see Ezra fighting, or more like dodging blaster fire. A hunter in black gear follows him, Another human female with pale skin and dead-set eyes is fighting Kanan, and I can see that Kanan is actually having to put up a rather decent right. I train both blasters at his enemy and wait for him to get out of my line of fire. When he does, I fire two shots. It was kind of obvious, but the human woman dodges, but I keep up the pressure and she dodges, doing a series of maneuvers and twists. Meanwhile, Ezra fires his energy slingshot, which the man doesn't even try to dodge, but Ezra doesn't stay in one place. Zeb, meanwhile decides to bust out his staff and do some damage with Kanan.

Deciding that Ezra needs more help than Kanan, I fire my blasters at the black-clad hunter. He dodges and fires back at me. I roll to the side and toss my last remaining detonator, my opponent diving to his left. I take the distraction to fire a shot. It hits his shoulder. For a moment he cradles his shoulder before trying to fight me up close and person. I grab his arm, give a right hook before throwing him a few meters away from me. He doesn't stay down, so I try again to shoot him, but he doesn't fall for the same trick again, and I find myself once again using my fist. After some ducking, I throw a rapid punch to his abdomen then a knee. With his helmeted head exposed, I punch as hard as I can. He goes down, down, but not out. My fist kind of hurts slightly, and I move to crack my knuckles.

"Thanks for the save," Ezra says.

That kind of makes me do a double take. No comment about his crush on me. I would ask him about that, but I don't want to give him the wrong idea.

"Don't mention it," I say casually.

I then turn my head to see Kanan has finally managed to take down his opponent. She, like the other black-clad hunter is probably down, but not out.

"We need to make sure that these guys don't blow up the core," Kanan says.

"Got something for that," Ezra interjects.

He pulls out a small capsule usually on stormtrooper belts. Inside it is a coil of cable used to swing from place to place. That stuff is pretty tough, seeing as it can hold up to four or so fully-grown organics.

"Good call, kid," Kanan approves.

"I can do this," I say, grabbing the capsule.

Using my knowledge about the coil from my Imperial Academy ways, I form a knot that should keep the two down for a while. Kanan and Ezra drag the two hunters to a corner. I loop the cable around some wires and other tech stuff lying around. They won't get away easily, but they'll have enough time to get off this boat. I make sure to tie the cable real good. We need at least a few minutes to get back to the phantom, but they need a few minutes to activate the self-destruct and get themselves to safety, so we're in the clear pretty much. After I finish, I give them a good smack to make sure that they stay down for a bit longer. Giving a nod to Kanan, we all turn to leave. Our pace is quick.

"Nothing at all we could salvage," Kanan asked.

"Yep. Pretty much," Zeb finishes.

"I'm getting tired of missions that aren't getting us things we need," I say, "Can't we be more sure about the intel we're getting."

"I told you before," Kanan said annoyingly, "this intel is what we have. We don't question it."

"And that's what worries me a lot," I say with a shake of my head.

"Can we discuss this later when there isn't a ticking clock," Ezra butts in.

**00000000000000000000**

**Archangel P.O.V**

I watch from the cockpit of the _Killobyte. _Although I am watching the frigate, there is very little interest in it. I only watch in order to watch where the rebels will depart. If my calculations are correct, they'll disengage from a ship somewhere on the hull of the frigate, and when they do, I will track it, and I will trace them back to their ship or wherever they go.

There are some reason why this particular group is of any interest to me at all. The first reason is that they are one of the main sources of the Empire's problems on the planet Lothal, a rather poor planet in comparison to the rest of the galaxy, except maybe Tatooine or Nar Shaada. The Empire, I know, has great plans for the outer rim. The outer rim is where a lot can happen in secret and in abundance. The details are not known to me yet, but I will find a way. I always do. These rebels must know about that plan because their targets because according to Imperial data logs, there is an indication to some sort of pattern. None of the attacks have any sort of way been coincidence or without direction.

Another reason why this crew intrigues me is because I believe the Force tells me something is amiss, and they are the key to understanding what the Force wishes me to know. I do not what these rebels could possibly provide me, but I am willing to give a small window of chance. It may not exactly be concrete reasoning, but reasonable suspicion has always been enough justification to study further. All I can say for certain is that someone there is Force-sensitive. I could sense another presence aboard. I do not know if it was Jedi or Sith or neither, but the signature was like a flare in the dark of night: impossible to miss.

The third and final reason was because of some other underlying emotion. For some reason, I found myself wanting more than simply myself and CX-66 in my life. I have been on my own, and for a long time, I wonder if I am truly sane or if I have already lost my mind with the solitude that I have committed to for so long. Despite my quest to seek companionship, I am determined not to let that hamper who I am. Any attachment that goes too far has to be severed before I potentially gain a weakness. I have learned that being close to people can lead to...unsavory reactions, not that I am worried. I can control my emotions, and I am almost certain that I can overcome any death of someone close to me. Perhaps I have been fretting for too long, afraid of things that have yet to happen yet. That must be it. So I comfort myself knowing that any friends I make can be easily let go, even if the pain lingers. That is how it must be.

So with that in mind, I begin to ask myself who are these people? What are they like in personality and character? Where do they come from? I ask questions anyone should ask someone they want as a friend. My interest lingers more on the Mandalorian woman, because she has heritage that I have not been a part of for a long time, and secondly, she bested me in combat, and that is unacceptable. I always find a way to get even with those who beat me, and I am more than capable of backing that up, because when I fought her, I was not even trying to fight. My arsenal of moves is extremely lengthy and complicated. One day, I would renew battle and get even.

A shift in the Force tells me that they are moving. My eyes track a single shuttle detaching from a air lock. Without waiting for my command, CX-66 pilots the ship, the stealth drive already engaged. We follow closely, keeping a respectable distance so as not to give away anything else about our location. A journey of a few clicks brings us towards a desolate moon, and there, waiting in the partial light and dark was a VCX-100 light freighter, two 360 degree turrets, one rear-mounted turret, equipped with strong shielding, and also coming with the shuttle that they rode in. It is a fast and reliable ship, and is fairly sturdy. The _Killobyte_, by comparison, is two and a half times the size of their ship.

I watch them as they dock. After that, I tap a few buttons on my ship and the _Killobyte _begins to do a discreet scan of the ship from the inside to the outside, making a 3D model on a nearly holo-projector. All the details are included, even paint and metal scratches. The ship specs are also given, with hyperdrive speed, time to launch, and time to slow. Weapon emplacements are labelled and maximum cargo is stated. Now to finish off by planting a small beacon, which will remain deactivated until I give it the command to activate. That way it cannot be detected.

**00000000000000000000**

**Sabine P.O.V**

Well, we managed to get away without much fuss, though it was clear that Hera and Kanan were not exactly happy about the mission. It wasn't like we never experienced bad ops, but this one in particular had potential to get us up on the Imperial hit list, really high. It would hurting them right where it hurts a lot. As I walked to my room, my helmet under my arm, I also take in the faces of Zeb and Ezra, I can literally feel the glum gained and the cheer gone. It's nota good time, and for now, we all need rest. Tomorrow, we'll beat the Imps back ten fold for following us like that.

Inside, I'm smacking myself for not doing more. I should've know about this being all a setup. The Imps have done this before, and I've seen it happen, but in all this excitement about taking valuable stuff, we all lost sight of the goal. Not much we can do about it now, though, and I can't really be bothered to moan about it.

Another part of me phases back to the fight. The other hunters carried in interest to me, expect the one without a face to pin to. I wouldn't know if he was human, but his physique seemed to give me the impression that he was at least somewhat human. I also think about his elaborate fighting style, how fluid, how beautiful, and how dangerous it was. I really don't know why it interests me. Bounty hunters are really just people like us, but with only money in mind. We help people in addition to making money. Furthermore, it's not like I'll ever see him anytime soon...

**Or will you, Sabine….**

**This story is growing slowly, and I guess that'll have to do for now. In the meantime, REVIEW. Remember, this is the reason why I update this story. Tell me the goods and the bads. Spelling and grammar police can grind me about that.**

**Anyway, this was a somewhat hard chapter to write more because of time constraints, so be gentle if the story is delayed a day or so one time, but I'll try to keep weekend updates.**

**Thanks for reading. Keep supporting, and remember, we cannot help everyone, but everyone can help someone. Peace out!**


	7. Chapter 7: Empire Day Prelude

**Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. Disney does.**

Chapter 7: Empire Day Prelude

**Coruscant, Core Worlds**

** Empire Day**

** Time not Specified**

** 3648 ATC**

** Archangel P.O.V.**

_"Audio log number 4382. Today is the day that the Empire takes time to celebrate its birth. It a very festive time and billions upon billions of citizens across the galaxy come to celebrate and salute the Galactic Empire. On Coruscant The day begins with massive parades, huge gatherings of people in the streets, watching on as the Empire displays its great strengths, massive numbers, and impressive power. Every type of warrior from simple Imperial Stormtroopers to the Emperor's Imperial Guardsmen arrive and parade. Though differing in rank, name, and skill, they are all the same in the manner that they are rigid, lifeless, and mindless servants of the Emperor. There are few with even the mind to think beyond what is ordered of them and what is in their training. In this way, they are painfully predictable, and that provides me with a window of much opportunity. As I speak, the parades occur, and I watch from one of the apartment towers._

_"Although I myself am not capable of clearly witnessing the going-on down below, I view it with the same disdain as I have before, not only that but also pity, but not because they chose the wrong side. I pity them all because they did not choose in the first place, The Empire does not give choices. The Empire forces individuals against their will to do what they desire, and it is even more shameful that most people do not have the ability to muster any sort of courage and spit back._

_"It truly is a sight to behold. Billions of afraid people with no idea as to how to oppose the Empire, but the ordinary and normal citizens of the galaxy are not meant to understand. It is a melancholy existence for them, but I am also aware that while some are warriors, others are doctors, politicians, teachers, financialists, traders, scientists, careers that shape the galaxy just as much as war, battle, and combat does, and perhaps even more. I do not berate the galaxy for its inability to fight because I cannot. They do not have the proper skills nor the proper mindset to become warriors. Does that make them inferior to me? Absolutely not. As I have explained, they are skilled in their own way._

_Why do I speak of this? How does it pertain to the Empire and this celebration? The answer is this: the citizens of the galaxy are the heart of the galaxy. To be without them is to be without purpose. The galaxy would be an embodiment of nothingness without the people in it. These people do not need the fear of the Emperor in their hearts to hamper their progress. Freedom is a sacred, I believe. All people have great potential, and I know that given the right motivations, the right resources, and a bit of intelligence, the galaxy could actually become prosperous, thriving, and far more than what it is now._

_"Many people, politicians and the likes, believe the old Galactic Republic to be thoroughly corrupt and vile, and was ultimately a failure, to which I know that is an absolute lie. The Galactic Republic has had a history of over 25,000 years, a lifespan far longer than that of the fifteen-year-old Galactic Empire. In its time, when corruption was resorted to, it was out of desperation, out of need, when people were not thinking rationally enough to see what they were doing. In the waning years of the Republic, there had been many events in the Galactic Senate that changed the balance of power. The Senate willingly and without question handed power to the former Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, which can only mean that somehow the Sith had managed to gain a foothold in the Senate long before the Sith took power. _

_"The Rule of Two dictates that only two can exist: a master and an apprentice. One day, if the apprentice is worthy, the apprentice will rise against the master and kill the master. The apprentice shall then become the new Sith Master and take their own apprentice, and so the cycle continues. Darth Bane was the Sith that created this rule, and in doing so, he ensured that over the course of almost a millenium, the Sith would be unseen as they slowly and discreetly undermined the Republic from the inside out._

_"The Senate is now all but useless. The Emperor's rule makes their authority and power ineffectual at times. To make matters more sour, the Senate is gradually becoming the spitting image of the Emperor's lust for power. Although many senators that served before the Empire's rise still retain their seat, they are but a few, and the one that does dare to speak out, his name being Gall Trayvis, is now an exile, and rightfully so if he is aware what is best for himself. Now no one dares to speak out, at least not openly, but I have reason to believe that some of the Senators will eventually declare an all-out rebellion when the time is right._

_"As we speak, there will be hearings and speeches given at the Imperial Palace by some of the most influential and esteemed senators, all loyal to the Emperor to a fault. I think it is time that I make a bold statement and interrupt proceedings. Archangel is already wanted for the murder of thousands of stormtroopers, sabotage, infiltration, theft of top-secret intelligence and data, raiding the Jedi Temple, killing several Shadow and Imperial Guardsmen, and the destruction of two Imperial Star Destroyers. I might as well make an even more audacious stab in the Empire's back by disturbing the peace on the fifteenth anniversary of the Galactic Empire. Not only will the bounty on my head go up, but Imperial Intelligence will apply more assets into taking me into custody._

_"And at times like these, I need allies, now more than ever. I do not know what the future brings, and as I look back, all the people that have come and gone in my life were the best things that happened to me, and because of my carelessness and underestimation of the Empire, I led them to slaughter. In response, I devote myself more to fighting, and now, I feel that I have learned my lesson enough times to know how to find friends and collaborators without endangering their lives. Force knows I will take the punishments and failures that I have done to my death. Perhaps that is a fitting fate for one who kills and maims and causes a great deal of suffering all because he believes he is doing right._

_"This is Archangel, signing off."_

Empire Day is a day which I have both hate and both love. I hate it because I hate the Empire; that is rather self-explanatory. The memories are buried in the past, but that does not mean I feel no pain when they are brought up. I try not to think about it much. It serves me no purpose. I shove away those times. The future waits for no one, not even me.

I love it, per se, because I find great opportunity to further Archangel on the Empire's frustration and anger against me. Already I am wanted for so many charges, but today, I am about to attempt perhaps the most suicidal and daring mission that I have even embarked upon. It is suicide because where I wish to strike is heavily fortified with an entire legion of protection, including but not limited to walkers and snipers. It is a fortress, and it is called the Imperial Palace, where the Emperor himself resides when he is not travelling the galaxy.

This mission will begin towards the dawn of night. There are many steps I must take in order to secure my escape. and I will only get one chance to do this. Any errors, even the slightest, could wind up with me dead or worse, so naturally, I spent the better part of the morning and midday to plan this. First off, I need to disable their communication locally. A temporary jammer placed on one of the Imperial Palace's high towers should suffice. It will disable all Imperial signals within a five kilometer radius. The second step involves rigging the walkers guarding the area to detonate. That part will be more difficult because I will not be bringing my cloak with me. The third is to divert some of the stormtroopers towards the city areas in order to lessen any tailers. It's difficult enough to play a game of cat and mouse with TIE Fighters. Extra blaster fire and grenade tossing is great to be more challenging, but the entire point of this operation is not only to complete the mission, but to assess if my stealth abilities are as good as I hope they are. If they are, I can virtually leave the Empire jaws open trying to figure out how a single assailant could even hope to penetrate the numerous defenses guarding the palace.

It is now mid afternoon, and the parades are still going strong as the Empire parades throughout all the major streets and squares. Where am I? The best view possible, atop one of the numerous skyscrapers that Galactic City houses. Countless of billions of lives are visible are far as the eye can see, all of them scared, lost, and confused. It is the way of the Empire to ensue these emotions in the people, and I feel it is my responsibility to remind the galaxy that the Empire is not invincible, and that like any other government, there will be someone to rise up, and once weakness is shown, people will grow more courageous. The people already have the ire and animosity for the Empire, but they simply have need of a means to guide and project them in the right direction.

I do not smile, nor do I frown. I have not really smiled or frowned for a time. I do all my emotional expression in my mind, and right now, I am anxious and excited. Pulling my hood over my head so that only my mouth and chin are visible, I check to make sure that all my weapons, equipment, and gear are in optimal working order.

Because this is a stealth operation, I am traveling light. Instead of wearing full armor, I opt for a pilot's outfit, a cape draped over my right arm. In my belt is my trusty blaster equipped with a scope increasing effective range to 120 meters. Also concealed in my belt are poisonous darts, three flashbang grenades, two sonic detonators, and two fragmentation grenades. My metal foldable bow is on the back of my belt, ready to unfold in exactly 1.83 seconds. I have only two arrows because I hope to only use it against critical targets. My wrist gauntlets house my cable launchers, flame throwers, and retractable wrist knives. The final piece is my tactical macrobinoculars, equipped with a rangefinder, tactical heat vision, and target indicators. It's a light load, and it will allow me to be fast, nimble, and agile.

Balancing at the top of the structure, I began to scale down the building, never using my magnetic gloves and boots because I know that at the rate I am moving along the surface, I do not need to remain in the same spot for more than a second. My motion is fluid and constantly on the move. I'm using the Force to guide myself, and also lifetimes worth of training. Because of my dark colors I am wearing, I am not visible to anyone's eyes. I begin to slide down some glass, making sure that my boots don't snag on the frame holding the glass in place. I then release my grip from the surface and jump, keeping my body straight and my focus on my path downward. For ten seconds, I allow myself to fall, my speed rapidly increasing. I then will myself to do a frontflip against the wind resistance, landing roughly on my feet, the impact slightly painful, but only slightly.

I look at the ship that I've landed on, and find out that it's a light freighter, so I may or may not have alerted the pilot or someone on the ship to my presence on top. I need to ride this direction for at least thirty seconds before departing east. I have time to do so, no need to be in a rush. Without my helmet, it is a bit disorienting trying to discern certain sounds from the other, but I should be able to hear clearly if anyone was to go checking for signs of danger, I steel myself to prepare for the worst. I count down the seconds till the next jump, eyes narrowed. I hear the sound of muffled voices, and I still have eleven seconds left to the end. At seven seconds, I hear a hatch open and out come two thugs with blasters. I do not tense up. They see me and they raise their blasters at me. I simple turn away from them and do a head dive off the ship. I plunge fifteen meters before coming into contact with another ship heading the way I want. I do a roll and come to a stop, the ship with the thugs long gone.

I sit down cross-legged. This ship is far too big for anyone to know that I'm here. Anyone who has probably heard would immediately dismiss it. I'm okay for now. Now I stare into the distance. I only have a few minutes, but I'll take those minutes and use them to the fullest. The memories can now fuel these next few hours.

_Something that kills me...it makes me feel alive_

**00000000000000000000**

**Sabine P.O.V.**

Sabine was somewhat shocked. No, that wasn't the right word. She was overwhelmed, for many reasons to top it off.

Today was Empire Day, a day that everyone hated because they all fought against the Empire, all for different reasons, but for the same goal. Sabine's reasons were due to her family. Those memories were painful, and more often than not, she didn't think about them. It was too much to think about.

Everyone had their pain. Sabine knew that Kanan was once a Jedi, and the Sith wiped out his kind. She didn't really know how he felt personally about it, but she could make guesses. Hera had not explained her reasons, but she supposed that maybe discrimination could be a possibility, but who knows. Hera answered questions without giving answers, and that wasn't about to change anytime soon that Sabine could see. Zeb's whole species was destroyed to the point of near-extinction. That, itself, would be justification enough for Sabine to make sure those son of a huts payed two fold. Ezra had lost his parents to the Imperials, and no one but Tseebo knew where they were.

Ezra Bridger. His situation should've been no better or worse than everyone else's situation. He lost people that were important to him. Losing parents to anyone can do that to a person. Sabine didn't doubt for a moment that his anger and despair came from it. His self-dependence also came from that as well. She knew what it was like to lose people close to you, maybe not in the way that he did, but still losing family just the same. Yet for all the reasons that Sabine tried to rationalize that Ezra's anger was a bit too much, it wasn't. for some reason, his situation seemed more tragic than everyone else's. She couldn't find the words to describe it other than that.

What was even more astonishing was that Ezra didn't seem to be in any hurry to do anything about the possibility that his parents could still be alive. If it were her, Sabine would jump at the chance, even if it was small. Ezra, by contrast, was really reluctant and maybe afraid, but why should he be afraid? They're his parents. There's nothing to be afraid of. Sabine, for a moment, came to see Ezra as less of a kid and more of a person who was caught between a rock and a hard spot. She felt bad for him.

Her attention was brought back to the disk that was currently being cleaned up. It was the one from Ezra's old place. Apparently, he didn't think it was anything important, but she wasn't so determined to give up yet. She wasn't one to waste anything. This disk had to have something on it. This was some old tech compared to what the _Ghost _packing. This disk might have been the standard of tech maybe ten or so years back, but not now. Her motivation to defrag and clean this disk was more than simply finding something useful. She thought that maybe she could use it to somehow comfort Ezra. Force knew the kid needed it. She wanted to do something for him because she could sympathize with his ire for the Empire.

She never thought she'd ever be doing anything for that kid. He was stubborn, naive, and stupid sometimes. It seemed that he always found a way to attempt to hit on her. At first, it had annoyed the living daylights out of her, but she had learned to ignore it, or deflect it back at him. It's not that she didn't like him, but she didn't like him that way. He still did it, and she found amusement in keeping him left behind in the dust in the game.

The disk was now coming together, and Sabine could now make out what the disk was all about. What she saw filled her with a small smile, and a bit of sadness. It was what looked to be a picture of Ezra in his childhood years, along with a man and a woman. They were his parents.

**If anyone caught the song that was mentioned in the chapter, then props. I don't think it's too difficult to figure out.**

**Anyway, REVIEW because they're love, and they're what keep me writing. Apologies for the short chapter, but I've been coping with my recent surgery that had four wisdom teeth removed. Next chapter will be quite an undertaking.**

**Hope you all enjoyed. Thanks for reading, and remember, the measure of who we are is what we do with what we have.**

**Peace out!**


	8. Chapter 8: Empire Day Crashing Part 1

Chapter 8: Empire Day Crashing Part 1

**Coruscant, Core Worlds**

** Empire Day**

** Early Nightfall**

** 3648 ATC**

**Archangel P.O.V**

The stage is set. The audience demands speeches of power and authority. The Imperial Royal Palace's courtyard is filled to the absolute capacity with civilians. The sounds are roaring. It makes you deaf even listening for a moment, and it does nothing to ease my sensitive hearing, but even through all the chaos, I can use the Force to focus in on whatever that I want.

From under my hooded face, I careful spy the patrols watching all walls of the palace. I see their stiff and robotic marches, all in synchronization, all faceless, all about to become the ones responsible for being unable to apprehend the most wanted terrorist in the galaxy.

Taking note of the numbers in each patrol, I flex my hand, a knife shifting slightly in it. Targeting the nearest patrol that cannot be seen by the others, I shift the blade and throw it. It hits its mark and the sight of a bleeding wound contrasts the white of the armor. The other two turn to the source of their now dead compatriot. I jump from fifteen meters and slam my arms into them, sending them careening with the ground, knocking them unconscious. I do not waste a single moment. I move on to the next two unsuspecting targets. I turn a corner, and grab the next in a choke hold and casually twist his head, my hearing sensing the snapping of bones being broken. The one next to him turns, his blasters raised, but I grab the barrel and crush it, then my wrist knife comes out to impale through the abdomen. I run to the edge of the patrol tower and look down.

There is a fairly sizable guarding force at this part of the palace. At least two thousand stormtroopers, five AT-ST walkers, and some anti-aircraft guns. At least ten snipers are covering this area as well. All the troopers are lineup, ready to take down targets at a moment's notice. In short, it's a suicide to attempt entry that way for really anyone.

Unfortunately, it's the only way to get to the objective that I want, but it is also fortunate because the Imperials would never believe that anyone would have the gall to try this way.

If I had my sniper rifle, I could take down the snipers easily, but I only have my foldable bow with several shots. I can take out three, but that leaves me with seven others. I guess I have to take down a sniper, grab his rifle, and take down the others, but in order for me to do that, I will have to get past that wall of force, then scale the surface of the palace.

My position affords me a view of some of the snipers, but I need to get to higher ground in order to get the best field of view. I also need to do this without being detected, not exactly a walk in the industrial area when there are multiple towers overlooking the area. My best chance is to time my approach. My dark clothing should help me greatly.

I jump off the platform that I am on, careful to reduce my noise. The shadows are my friends and I use them to great effectiveness to slither past unsuspecting troopers. I am careful to maintain a distance from hidden scanners and spotlights dotting the site. It is amazing to see that for all of their tightness in security, there are so obvious weak links in the chain that can be easily exploitable, but I will not complain. Noticing a small detector on the ground, I activate my wrist computer and begin to do a hack. I cannot go around this scanner, not without drawing a large amount of unwanted attention to myself

A small indication on the screen indicated that the device had been scrambled. It would last fifteen seconds, and I run out of its range in about five seconds, stopping to wait for a patrol to go by. My hands lay on my knives, ready to throw or deliver a lethal blow if I'm forced to, but they pass by me. I wait for a few seconds, then I move on. The wall is approaching faster and faster. Although there is less marching around and more silence, it is anything but a silence with no one in it. There is much going on.

Quick to dive to the next source of cover, I look around the corner of my cover to see that cover is becoming more and more scarce. Now there is a wall if stormtroopers and anti-aircraft and the AT-ST walkers blocking the entrance. I have to take caution now. There's nothing but open space, a prime location for snipers. My dark clothing can only do so much. Sooner or later, if I am not careful, I could end up being discovered trying to blend in with the dull ground color, or seen trying to sprint to safety.

I need a distraction, but I need my ordinance for the palace. I could try and lure some attention with something else, like a flashbang, or a body, but I might end up just forcing the Imperials to maintain more vigilance. It could backfire. Any confusion I cause now will not last long, or so I believe. That means that I will have to do make the most of seconds of time, something that I have done before in the past to a ridiculous degree of mastery.

There are many basic principles to infiltration and assassination when in hostile enemy territory. The first is in order to manipulate the field in your favor, you risk premature exposure. The best way to infiltrate is to make yourself nonexistent from all senses and all forms of detection. It does not matter how it is achieved, but a true infiltrator has to learn to infiltrate without any sort of special equipment in order to gain a deep appreciation of the technology that can allow for even a single individual to get past an unstoppable fortress wall. The second is when in neutral areas, use the cover of normality. It is often easy to perceive enemies hiding in places not easily seen, but what is not easy to realise is that not all enemies hide in the less obvious. Some hide in plain sight, one of the most deadly and yet overlooked forms of concealment possible. The third and final is if exposed, the best way to react is to know that distractions can often deter anyone from the true goal. The true goal can be clouded in distractions.

If I recall these three things, then I will have to use either a distraction or continue to remain not known, or rather, use both.

I pull out one of my flashband grenades, and one of my thermal detonators. First, I will need a stormtrooper to plant this on. It will be a tricky maneuver. It will probably be detected before it detonates, but stormtroopers are not known for their superb reflexes or quick-thinking. Once the thermal detonator is planted, I can then throw a flashbang grenade. The flash should work within a ten-meter radius, and it will be difficult for anyone to really see the source of the explosion. Troopers will be sent to investigate, but I will need more. I suppose that if possible, I can find some ordinance among some stormtroopers.

I stay in my place, a thermal detonator in place. I activate it, counting down the seconds until a minute is up. At about fourteen seconds to go, I discreetly plant it on the last stormtrooper in a group. By the time they actually realize what's going on, I will be setting up the next string of distractions. Readying the flash grenade, I wait for several more seconds. At three seconds left, I toss the grenade, hearing the sound of blinded troopers, quickly followed by an explosion. Using my senses in the Force, I make my way through the still,blinding light surrounding the area and locate a stormtrooper. Without thinking, I remove the belt and retreat back to cover, and not a moment to spare as the flash disappears in a wink.

The patrols in the area were still trying figure out what was going on, and many patrols moved in to secure their fallen comrades and scan the area for threats. Certain troopers leaving their posts to help gave me an opportunity to place some other nasty traps. Using the cable from the belt I stole, I decide to set up a trip mine. Searching through the belt, I find a compact detonator. Perfect, I can modify it to make a trip-wire explosion. A few tweaks and modifications and some careful working on the grenade, and another trap was set, a straightforward thing to do, but now's not the time to marvel. Now's the time to move on.

I still have some cable left, along with some basic utility things from that belt. I probably will not use any of it. Too low-quality and I can make do with the equipment I have.

I stop short as another one blocks my way. He's alone, but I do not go for the kill. If I did, someone else will see me. Whether it be another trooper or a sniper or a turret operator or anyone period. So I do the next best thing and switch to my wrist-launched poisonous dart. These kinds of darts will kill in about several minutes. In that time, the victim experiences fading consciousness, and has a tendency to wander aimlessly.

I aim the dart at the narrow opening between the helmet and the chest piece. The dart is quiet, but the trooper breaks the silence with a grunt of pain. I watch impassive before sprinting off. Just a hundred meters to go.

Now comes the more difficult part. This is the last watch tower to hide behind. Now the only thing between me and the palace are turrets and walkers and several hundred stormtroopers. There is no way that I can hope to distract them with what I have on me. This is not good. I still have snipers to deal with, and I need the ordinance I have now for inside the palace. If I had my full heavy armor on, I could easily dish out more damage and remain grounded. As I am now, I cannot do too much damage, at least by artillery. The only chance that I can even get inside is to get right in the middle of the action, stage a one-man assault into hundreds of stormtroopers, The mass of troopers surrounding me should halt any sort of attempt from the turrets and walkers to take me down. I can deal with the snipers by using any nearby trooper as a human shield.

I begin to scale the watch tower as quickly as my skills allow me to go. When I reach the top, I don't bother with stealth, but I doubt anyone below can hear all too well. Readying a capture grenade, I toss it down at the nearest patrol. One of them stops to watch the object before it explodes in a blaze. I take this cue to jump down, my blaster already firing. I land atop of one, the speed of my weight crashing down, probably crushing his chest. I grab one of the blasters on the ground, not stopping as I do so, firing as rapidly as possible. The sound of footsteps and blaster fire everywhere sends my nerves on high alert. The adrenaline rush I feel is exciting. I see nothing but a sea of white charging at me.

As I can sense blaster fire through the Force, I do what I can to duck and weave. Stormtrooper aim is really poor, so that makes dodging the hundreds of bolts all the more easier, or several dozen as the other hundreds fill the area around me. I quickly hit the ground as seven bolts cut the air I was in. I get up and break ranks, firing every half-second. Sheathing my blaster pistol and dropping the stolen rifle, two blades come from my wrists and I begin to carve a bloody path through the blockade. If there are snipers trying to track me, they must think me a very annoying target to hit, as I do not sense anything through the Force.

At this point, I can barely begin to feel my movements. My moves are not executed by thought, but rather by instinct, like breathing. I stab one in the helmet, and another in the upper right torso, Although I make no sound, I can feel my face shift from growls into angry silent cries. My arms connect with two more, my arms barely wavering as they make contact. I kneel and stab the two in the helmet. I am quick to raise my forearm and parry an attempt to hit me with the butt of a rifle. I then kick the rifle from its owner before firing it into his chest. I have created lots of space, I do a couple of flips backwards to dodge the fire. When I land, I see two troopers in front of me, each with a canister on their backs. Flame troopers.

The flames that race towards me ready to consume me into ashes, I instinctively duck down, the heat passing over me. I then brave the flames for a moment, feeling the heat, but not responding to the pain in the least. I respond by firing two explosive darts onto their backs, the explosion creating quite a mess of a crater, but still move close in on me.

I sense a warning through the force, and I make a dive as the ground explodes where I was. Okay maybe the Imperials do know how to fire cannons without killing their own troopers, or maybe they simply do not care for the lives. Either way, I need to adapt. Still weaving through the blaster fire, I make contact with two more, grabbing them both into chock grips, using their bodies as shields. Once they slump dead, I let go and make a mad dash for the nearest turret. Climbing on top, I force the hatch open, using the metal as a temporary shield before blaster the controls inside and the officer and gunner inside. I somersault to avoid another walker blast. Doing a front roll, I draw my blaster again, taking precise aim and dropping more than I can care to count. With a walker directly in my path, I know that this is my one chance to truly punch a hole, hit the battalion right where it is most painful.

When I am within ten meters, the walker body turns to face me, it's footing leveling out. A minigun fires on me, and I keep to the course, pushing myself to sprint faster. Once within range. I jump as high as my my body, my augmentations, my implants, and the Force lets me, which is enough for me to grab onto the cannot barrels of its main gun. I lift myself onto the gun, quick to use my magnetic boots to remain on the tip as the walker operators try to shake me. Instead, I jump to the top, my fingers struggling for a moment to find the hatch opening, but once I do, I drop an appropriated detonator into the area. The shouts are muffled when I slam the hatch shut again. The body explodes behind me as I fall. My feet hit the ground, and through the Force, I can feel the ranks thinning out. I think it is time to make a grand exit out of this place.

I charge into another group of stormtroopers and activate a flashbang grenade again. I then use the Force to guide myself through the crowd. Fortunately, the entrance is like that of the Imperial Senate Building. The troopers would probably not pursue me, but there could be Imperial Royal Guards here, maybe some Shadow Guards. Far more challenging opponents than stormtroopers, but still nothing I cannot handle. I can pretty much deal with anything that they throw at me. I remember all fights with every type of warrior.

The snipers finally decided to get in shots at me, but even their aim is not good when dealing with a very nimble target. To add more mockery, I do very sible body movements and allow shots to harmlessly hit anything but me. It's really not that difficult.

The halls of the palace are quiet, and I welcome it. It helps me to focus my senses physically and through the Force in order to detect any enemies in the way. I am not looking to fight here. I have an objective here. First though, I must do away with the power generators sitting in the subareas below the palace.

At certain critical points, I can effectively cut off the power to the entire palace. A standard detonator would not do the proper kind of damage, or enough damage. A sonic detonator would not only render the equipment useless but also the sonic sounds produced would also serve to scramble all communications within the palace. This place would become a dead place with no means of communication or power. That would leave me with an opening to make a stealth-like disappearance, and everyone would know who it was, given the recent holo-reports circulating throughout all the galaxy.

Following the signs around, I sprint at a pace brisk enough to be nearly ghostly silent, but still with enough time to execute the plan. The timing is critical not because my life or the entire operation depends on it, but more so because the timing, if done right, will create a far greater impact. I not only want to leave something for the Empire to think about, but something for the galaxy to consider. The Force tells me that the people want hope inside, hope for something better, even if they display patriotism in the face of the Imperials. I believe that with this, I can begin to inspire that hope, ignite it.

The night has blossomed at last…

**00000000000000000000**

**Unknown Location**

**Hyperspace**

**Hera P.O.V**

It's been a wild day to say the least. For starters, we ruined the Empire's big day on Lothal. For another, we've stolen one of their most valuable and important assets and whisked him away where no one will find him. For another, Ezra and Kanan have gone to the asteroid base to hide until all of this blows over.

That chase we went through was quite the chase. We've had some close calls before, and we've been pretty popular now looking back. We've had TIE Fighters on our tail as well as Star Destroyers. They've been mostly pretty easy to deal with seeing that I can't be outrun or outmaneuvered by any Imperial pilot. However, this time, we had far more trailers than I've ever had to deal with. And for once, we actually got hit. Probably must've been the Inquisitor. Force users certainly have something that us normal people don't. That coupled with two Star Destroyers certainly makes for some extremely on-edge nerves and a lot of fear. I did a diagnostic of the _Ghost's _status. For once in a long time, we've sustained some moderate damage, but it's nothing we can't fix. We'll have the ship up and running in full working order in a day or two. In the meantime, I have other things to think about.

After we placed Tseebo into Fulcrum's hands, I'm left to handle how to deal with how to talk to Ezra about the fate of his parents. I don't think that any time is a good time to talk about it, but if I don't talk to him when he comes back, I won't ever get to talk to him about it. I decide that as soon as both he and Kanan returns, I'll tell him. He might not take it well, seeing as he's been on his own for probably a good part of his life.

I think we've all had enough for one day. I don't know what the others are up to now. The last I saw of Sabine was of her working on something other than her art and graffiti, much to my surprise. When I asked her what she was doing, she simply said it was a secret. I think the girl was doing that on purpose, seeing as I don't tell her the secrets that she wants to know badly.

As for Zeb, he's just like himself as ever. I swear, even if he is one of the older and more experience members of the crew, he can act like a child, but at least he knows when and where to be serious.

I had a brief "conversation" with Chopper, who seemed persistent that he wasn't offline for more than a few minutes. He's been extra careful about what he does now, convinced that somehow the ship may do something to cause him to go offline again. I leave him to his fun.

Sometimes, this job is just so much fun and yet so much annoyance and a lot of things. Even if I wanted to, there's no turning back now, for any of us. We have allies to commit to, but even with the connections we have, we could always use more. Fighters against the Empire are always potential recruiters.

**Part one of the Imperial Palace Attack. I decided that perhaps now would be a good time to switch to another member of the **_**Ghost**_**. All members of the crew will have a POV at some point. Although Archangel and Sabine are the main characters, I do my best to include all characters. Ezra, because he's for now, Star Wars Rebels focuses more on his growth, I guess he'll feature a bit more.**

**Next order of business, REVIEW! These are the reason I continue. Tell me the goods and the bads. The more REVIEWS, the better for me.**

**Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Keep supporting! Peace out!**


	9. Chapter 9: Empire Day Crashing Part 2

Chapter 9: Empire Day Crashing Part II

**Coruscant, Core Worlds**

** Empire Day Evening**

** Imperial Palace Sabotage**

** 3648 ATC**

From my position hiding in the archway. I watch as two shadow guards pass by, completely oblivious to my presence. Using the Force, I am using a Force cloak to hide my presence, but since I do not practice with my Force abilities much as of late, I don't know if they will even work or not, but apparently they work enough. Shifting my body, I land on my feet with a small thud. Using my senses to detect anyone else. When I do not find anyone, I cautiously make my way through the dark and eerie halls, still suspicious. So far, opposition has been relatively light. and no doubt that the forces I contended with outside are reporting in that someone has broken the perimeter, but because it's Empire day, they cannot interrupt the celebration outside. The Emperor would be most displeased if his grand day was soundly ruined.

Even now, the muffled voices of those making speeches can be heard outside. Some of the most prestigious and recognized senators. I took the liberty of knowing who is speaking, and when, not that I really need to know. I need only complete the goal that I working towards. I can find words of falseness and deceit in far better places for virtually nothing.

The Force guides me around the endless and lengthy hallways until I find myself at a heavily-sealed door. I'm not breaking through this without some heavy weapons or hacking, or the Force. Heavy weapons would not be ideal, as the noise would give me away instantly. Hacking has many ways to go wrong as I could be traced back to the source. The Force?

Wait, maybe I do not have to use anything but the Force. I remember once listening to the advice and wisdom of a Jedi Master from an old Jedi Holocron. She said there is the Force. Everything is connected to the Force, life and death, animate and inanimate. All things in the physical world can be affected by the Force. Nothing can be truly concealed from the Force. If one focuses enough, one could pierce through even the most deceptive things. I do not know how much I believe this because if I recall correctly, the Emperor was once called the Supreme Chancellor. If the Jedi could really see everything, why could they not sense the Dark Lord of the Sith?

In any case, I concentrate on the Force around me. The feeling of peace and tranquility come to me, and I can now see differently. It is strange, being able to see what others cannot, and yet, I am barely scratching the surface. I have used the Force before, at least some of the offensive and defensive capabilities, but due to Force sensitives being somewhat of an uncommon sight in the galaxy as of late, it would be unwise of me to draw too much attention to myself.

Then again, I already have drawn too much attention to myself. I am Archangel, after all. The Core Worlds of the Empire have been experiencing painful stabs and slashes that I have inflicted upon them, and still the Empire learns nothing from all of their encounters with me. If they had truly learned from their mistakes, I would have already been captured and most likely executed, but that would be far too beneath the Emperor to simple kill one person who was a thorn in his side, so maybe he would find some use in me as some sort of test subject. Just take a good look at his Shadow Guards for the proof.

Speaking of getting caught, the Force tells me about the presence of others within the building. I can sense them all, and I can sense someone approaching my location. I best do this quickly.

The Force allows me to see the giant door in front of me. I can see through the exterior and into the locking mechanism. If I do this correctly, I can make it look like that the door was just opened with no explanation It simply was. The locking mechanism is constantly whirling, moving, shifting, and adapting, no doubt to try deter potential hackers from solving the puzzle, but I can instantly recognize the patterns when looking close enough. My mind knows what I am looking at because somewhere in the distant past, I have seen this before.

I cannot explain how or when or why, but I know it somehow. With this new-found knowledge, I begin to use the Force, ducking my way through laser defenses, mazes, and defense programs. They are all persistent in their efforts to see my failure, but I know that failure now would not bode well. I cannot fail now. I suddenly find myself being a bit more careless, seeing as the presence I sense earlier is now coming up fast. It's a risky move, but what other choice do I have? Sooner or later, hiding in the shadows will become obsolete.

It's right about then that I see the end. The final trap is the most simple, and yet there is complicity in simplicity. It is a simple open space, but I know that it's anything but empty. Deciding the best thing to do is to rush this one, I move the piece across the board, with all the programs still in pursuit of me. One mistake, and I will trigger an alarm that will be heard across the palace.

The door makes a small noise before opening slowly, but not fast enough because I duck under as soon as there is enough space for me to slide under. It is then that I hear some voices coming. I need to get a move on, and so I find myself at a spiraling staircase, descending into the lower levels of the castle. Because the staircase is relatively narrow, I ready my weapons, expecting an attack from all sides if need be.

As the lower levels become more apparent, I become even more guarded. Something about this entire assault has bugged me wrong. There were absolutely no reinforcements in the palace hallways, only a heavy presence on the outside guarding, and that was relatively easy to break through.

As I see the final step up, I halt and furiously step back. Two Shadow Guards stand ready at the gate entrance, and I doubt they will be easy to convince. Do I want to fight them? Not really. If I thought that I could fool them with the Force, I might, but since I am out of practice, I do not trust myself enough to do so. I do not have any more flash bangs, and I do not have my lightsaber to defend properly. I grit my teeth. Must I charge them? I guess so. I keep reminding myself that I am no longer invisible.

Taking several deep breaths, I take off in a sprint. They both immediately react to my presence and activate their lightsaber pikes. The first dodge is dropping to the ground to avoid two attempted impales. I roll to the left, then to the right, just barely missing the hits. then to the right, where I find a centimeter of space between myself and the dangerous plasma blades. I roll backwards and put some distance between us. Seeing that I am the one at a disadvantage, both guards do not charge me, but rather have their weapons pointed at me, waiting for me to make my move.

With a deathly silence, I charge again. The two guards try strike in unison from the sides, but I sidestep them and their blades collide for a second before disengaging. Using their momentary disorientation, I trip one of the guards, the armored man collapsing to the ground. I unsheath my wrist blade and prepare to plunge it into the back of his head, but the other guard has other ideas, the Force warning me to dodge. I shift my body so that the blade swings precariously close to my form. Another side strike heads for me, but I sense the other Shadow Guard behind me, so I duck and watch the two blades collide again. This time, I grab the staff part of the lightsaber pike of one guard, angle it forcefully to the right. While attacking one of them, the other one tries to impale me from behind, a move that was a gamble, but one that paid off. I sidestep and allow the blade to pierce the enemy. The guard immediately pulls back, not deterred by his fellow guard's demise. I take the lightsaber like, give it a few whirls, then snap the pole end off to suit my needs before getting into a stance.

This time, I'm in my element. The shadow guard charges me this time, using what I can see as a Juyo style. I call upon my knowledge of Djem So to aptly defend. Parrying at least several times per second, it's about the best challenge I've had to fight all day. I angle my blade down towards the ground to parry again, then swing the blade into a counterattack. The guard moves back and my blade misses. I press the offensive, matching his rapid attacks with my more brutal and savage strikes. The narrow hallways forces the Shadow Guard to keep on circling and it is a positive that his defenses are lacking. I get an idea that might work. I attempt an overhead strike again, seeing no sign of resignation from my opponent, but still he remains in the way. I do another strike to the sides, miss, then do a flip overhead, deflecting another blow, but also employing one of the most dirty moves I've ever used.

When I land, I do not strike, and neither does the Shadow Guard, but a noise fills the air and then, the explosion that follows envelops him, and I'm knocked backwards, slammed into the wall. I do not grunt, but I feel the pain regardless. It's not a good sign. I unsteadily get up, assessing my injuries. I may or may not have caused some internal bleeding, nothing serious yet, but I still have to sabotage the communications and power systems.

With some effort, I force the pain down and proceed into the room. The sound of machines hard at work fill the air around, effectively drowning out anything else in the room. This was good for me. The more noise, the better for me to avoid detection. It was also bad in the respect that my sensitive hearing picks up some noises that are extremely loud to me. enough so that even my earpieces are not blocking them out. I instinctively duck behind cover. It is never a good idea to try and "fix" my healing out in the open. I do a quick inspection of my equipment to make sure that it is working properly. When I cannot find any errors, I curse in Mando'a. Now I have to deal with injuries and deafness. Just my luck. I bite my lip to repress an outburst.

At this point, I should just get to the objectives, set the sonic detonators on a timer, and finish up what I came here to do. My impatience as well as my shortcomings are now starting to affect my overall performance. I've failed to be a ghost infiltrating, and therefore, have possible jeopardized the entire operation, a terrible embarrassment.

I mentally kick myself. Why do I bother with the things I could have done? That is all in the past, and is inconsequential in the present. Enough of this foolishness. I need to finish this.

Finished admonishing myself, I pull up a three-dimensional map of the floor. It is extensive, requiring massive amounts of power to sustain the place. It's rather amazing how the Empire is so wasteful with their resources. I could list several ways already for them to reduce the need for all that they are using as well as replacing their power sources with much more efficient ones that require less space, and in turn, less people to attend to them, but as it is, that is not what is. There is absolutely no way that I can get across this room without being spotted. Too many analytical eyes in one place. The only thing that I can thing to do is to remain as inconspicuous as possible as I casually pass by them working. I know it sounds like the worst idea ever conceived, but anything else is just as bad or worse, at least I think.

Less people. There are many people at work, but for some odd reason, they ignore me, or maybe they are contacting security already, If they are it does not matter. A battle cannot really be risked here. Maybe they ignore me because they are caught between a rock and a hard spot. I do not know, nor do I care.

I keep the map on, carefully navigating through the bustling, noisy, and productive workplace. My eyes watch all forms as they interact with the machinery, repairing, upgrading, programming, and watching. It is highly unusual. Had this not been the Imperial Palace, I would take more interest in all this.

As soon as I reach my first target, the primary power generator control center, I arm a sonic detonator and set it up for a remote detonator. Temporarily bypassing the computer's firewall and physical security. I plant the detonator within the wiring between the controls and the actual power source. Now to deal with the communications array.

Exiting proved to be just as easy as entering, but as soon as I reached the doorway to leave, I instinctively ducked to the right. A second later, I could hear the clanking of boots on stone. Stormtroopers passed by my hiding place. They will no doubt be interrogating anyone who saw me, which is everyone. Time to find another way to the array.

My eyes look to the ceiling. There are several hatches that lead to ventilation systems. Maybe I can use those. The machinery here will give me the means to elevate myself high enough.

As I watch more patrols flood the ground, I drive myself to move faster, grabbing onto each accessible ledge and jumping to the next. I raise up and up at a fast rate, careful that my shadow does not betray my position. I then pause, finding myself unable to climb higher. I look around me for the next object to grab onto. The only one is directly behind me, and it is a rather distant object. If I do not reach it, I will collapse right into a stormtrooper patrol below. Gripping the ledge harder, I prepare. Then, with too much faith, I jump as much as I am able. The world blurs for a bit, but my hand finds something in reach, and I grab onto whatever I hold.

The noise must have been too much, because I can hear some shouts and blaster bolts racing my way. I jump to the next highest place to narrowly avoid two red blaster bolts searing the area I once occupied. I have to jump to my right to avoid several more shots. Just a few precious more meters left to go. My footing slips as a bolt hits the place where my foot is I find myself hanging. Son of a hutt, I hate when this thing happens. As soon as my footing is back, I draw my sidearm and fire back, forcing the troopers to take cover. Three go down quickly. I resume climbing, now able to reach the hatch. I blast it open and propel myself in.

"He's in the vent system," one says, "alert the troopers to watch the vents for movement."

"What about probe droids," another asks.

"The vents aren't meant for droids," he said. "Just cover the vents."

Being hunched down, I now use the Force to navigate through the vents. I have about fifteen to get to the solar array, which just so happens to be conveniently located in one of the towers. So in true me fashion, I stumble my way through, not bothering to be wary of traps.

The next few minutes I spent powering through all obstacles, including various security measures taken to keep intruders out. The first source of light I see causes me to burst open the panel without a thought, only to find two blasters aimed at me.

"Freese, Archangel," the stormtrooper says.

I do that, but I do not raise my hands.

"Hands up," the others demands.

I bring both hands out, my wrist daggers imbedding them in the head. I retreat, noticing the blood, but that is forgotten once I look up. The solar array is located just a hundred meters above me, the sounds radiating from it. I just have to plant the detonator and mission accomplished. With a somewhat reluctant acceptance, I begin the final climb. I can suddenly begin to feel some exhaustion kicking in. It must be the loss of blood as well as the mental circles that I've been going in.

My hand feels the ground which the array rests on, but to my dismay, there is a rather sizeable force waiting for me: four Shadow Guards, two Purge Troopers, Several snipers, and twenty stormtroopers.

My body reacts before my mind and I throw the sonic detonator at the array. Not bothering to look back to see what would happen, I simply dive off the tower, and with no surface waiting for me to land on other than the ground some few hundred meters below me,

The sound of a detonator and a wild screech alerted me that the sonic detonator had done its job. I hold a detonator in my right hand, push the button, and watch as the lights of the Imperial Palace dim and darken to nothing.

The sight of the palace powering down caused a bit of a confusion in the ever approaching crowd, but the confusion is lifted when the emergency powers, and now I am about to slam into the ground, and my path puts me on a collision with the current senator giving a speech, and the Emperor's lap dog. Pity that she chose him, but it is too late. I use the Force to slow my descent, but only by a small percent. My wrist blade once again extends. and right into her neck.

I quickly cradle the woman and lower her to the ground, still holding her. She looks at me with a look of uncertainty. I shake my head from under my hood. I raise my hand to her heart and touch her. With her last strength, she places her hand on my own. Her blue eyes stare into mine somehow, and I know that my face is not obscured from her, but I do nothing to wince away. I do nothing but watch.

I am dimly aware of the complete silence that surrounds everyone. No sound, none at all, but I still focus on the dying senator. She holds my eyes before succumbing to death.

**00000000000000000000**

**In Space, Outer Rim**

**Empire Day**

**3648 ATC**

**Sabine P.O.V**

It had been a long day, and we were all looking forward to resting and celebrating a victory. We got our target and we got a pretty hefty pay for it. All in all, a good day, even with the road bumps.

I gave Ezra the holodisk of his parents, and I could see that he wanted to be left alone to let the memories go by. It probably was the best birthday gift he had received in a long time

After that, I had taken to watching the holonet, and Kanan, Hera, and Zeb had joined me, being interested in how the Core Worlds celebrated Empire Day. We all wish we could do something to mess it up, just like we did on Lothal, but someone beat us to it.

I could not say that had ever been this shocked by watching the holonet, and yet this was something that she would never think would happen. Now Archangel had gone and done just about the most suicidal stunt in his entire career: assassinating a senator, and one of the Empire's most favorite lap dogs.

Everyone else was at a loss. As they continued to watch the holovid, they could make out Archangel remaining where he was, still holding the body. It was then that a few voices could be heard.

Archangel turned his head slightly, then took off in a sprint. The next sound was deafening uproar.

Kanan just looked stunned, like actually taken back. Hera seemed just as amazed. Zeb stared really intensely at the vid. I did not really know what to say.

What could I say? To even consider assassinating a member of the Imperial Senate might as well be death sentence. Archangel was really either brave, stupid, or impulsive, and probably all three.

Another thing that bothered me was how he moved. The moment he lay the senator on the ground, it reminded me of that encounter with that bounty hunter, but for what reason, I don't know….

**Alright, I am finished. REVIEWS are always welcome. Tell me the good and the bad. Any story ideas can be sent to me via PM.**

**These updates have been somewhat difficult to maintain, but I'm still here, and I do truly appreciate the support.**

**Since I've been dilly-dallying long enough, I think it's time that the Ghost crew and Archangel finally met. Expect the next couple of chapters for a proper introduction, but the Ghost crew may or may not know the identity of Archangel immediately.**

**Hope you enjoyed reading. Peace!**


	10. Chapter 10: Get Into Gear

Chapter 10: Get Into Gear

**Coruscant**

**Core Worlds**

** 3648 ATC**

Tired did not even begin to describe the feeling I felt. More than anything, I was tired mentally more than physically, though physically, I was not that far off. I just wanted to go to my quarters and sleep it off. I wanted to do that more than anything, even if for only twenty minutes. Even that short amount of time would have done me good.

But the Empire was not making that a possibility.

For about a kilometer, I sprinted through the crowd, my legs pushing themselves to the limit to put enough distance between myself and any pursuing Imperial Forces. One wrong move, and I was dead.

Luckily, the chase was brief and I had enough time to call the _Killobyte_ for extraction, but I was not stupid enough to believe that I was out of this mess. For one, I knew that at any moment, TIE Fighters would be giving hot pursuit, and probably lots more, but I flew and shot rather than halt and consider. The time for action was now.

As the ship began to descend into a maddening flying course. It was maddening because for one, I could really remain balanced. CX-66 was doing an intricate and complex flying maneuvers in an attempt to evade the TIE Fighter squadron tailing us. Because the _Killobyte_ is roughly one-hundred and thirty meters long, the ship is not so much a warships and not so much like a fighter craft as more of a freighter with lots of weapons. Our shields will definitely hold out much longer than virtually all freighters, and our maximum speed in space is about mach one and a half, And of course, we could always engage a radar and scanner scramblers before engaging our cloaking device, but with the TIE's on our trail, someone is bound to discover our little stunt, so it will not be so easy. We may have the superior technology and firepower and shielding, but we do not have numbers on our side, and even the _Killobyte_ cannot hold up forever. No one ship can.

So here we are, pursued by at least two squadrons of TIE Fighters. Green laser fire filled the black space all around, creating some random and chaotic yet beautiful images. Occasionally, my enhanced sight allows me to see some actual shapes and identifiable creations, and I stop to watch them for a split of a second, the resume my attention on the battle that I am fighting. Being on the upper turret is not doing much good now, as some of my enemies lie beneath my clear line of site, not a good thing when I am in a bit of a rush. The hyperdrive is quick, but it still needs to to calculate.

Wait, I just thought of something. I believe that the Empire is capable of tracking ships through hyperspace. If we jump to hyperspace now, we would risk being tagged with a beacon, and no matter where we went, they would follow us. It was a thought, and I honestly do not know if the Empire is capable of such feats, but the Empire is known to have secrets projects and resources that no one else would have. They may not be very imaginative on the battlefield, but with their resources, sooner or later, they would find a way to overcome things once thought impossible. I know that I have done that hundreds of times in my life, so I have to believe it to be a possibility. I have to find another way to get out of here.

"CX, do not jump to hyperspace," I warn, "the Imperials may have tagged us. They could track us."

A momentary pause.

"_Acknowledged, master," _he says over the com, "_but what will we do."_

"_I believe I have a solution to this situation," _another voice says.

I am neither surprised, nor altered in any way. That other voice is the ship-board artificial intelligence, the one that only chooses to speak when something is extremely important. Actually, he speaks sporadically. I know that in these past few weeks, he has been rather quiet, but now, he has a proposition for me, and I wish he had consulted with me at a far different time than when I am gunning down TIE's left and right, but I cannot afford to be choosy now at any rate, and now would be a good time to start actually testing this ship's gadgets.

"Are you absolutely certain that we will be able to pursue this course of action," I ask cautiously.

I trust Atom implicitly, and the artificial intelligence has saved my life more than once. Unlike other artificial intelligences that were created from programs and from the ground up, Atom was created from the mind of a live organic. The original person was called Adamas. She was a Rattataki originally that I saved from the Rattatak. She was dying from a disease that was slowly destroying her body, so I did, at the time, the only thing I could do to save her life: to manifest her conscious into a computer and convert it to an artificial intelligence. I had taken the liberty of creating a rather intimidating, yet attractive avatar for her. Her standard form was about her organic body, but she could resize herself at will. She now appeared by my side in the gunner seat, hands on her hips, no doubt watching my shooting.

"I am about ninety-five percent that the _Killobyte _won't go down in flames," she said in a joking manner, which I said nothing to.

I have absolutely no idea what a sense of humor. You could tell me the funniest joke in the galaxy and I would not even flinch, and that goes for sarcasm as well.

I sigh.

"You had better be correct in your calculations," I warn her. "Our lives are at stake."

"Always the worrier," she said playfully. "don't be such a stick in the mud."

"Commence now," I say, ignoring her.

She sighed and slightly leaned against the wall, beginning arguably the most risky move in our lives. What we speak of is an experimental kind of travel that could allow me an advantage over the Empire, that is, if my calculations are correct. It is an experimental portal technology, which opens the way to interdimensional travel. Because hyperspace travel is the only means of faster-than-light travel, it has become a weakness. It was for this reason that I began to find alternate means of travel, and I traveled from one end of the known galaxy to the other ends, trying to search for artifacts, old technology, chronicles, legends, really anything ancient that could point me in the right direction. With some perseverance, I found something the Rakata were experimenting on, but never were able to finish building.

Hyperspace travel is technically not occurring in space, but if one is not careful, one could easily end up dead. There is always the risk of endangering things in space, be it other ships, moon bases, and other important areas with a hyperdrive. The hyperdrive is not fully understood by anyone. Not even I truly understand the nature of hyperspace, but what I do know is that hyperspace and normal space are still connected, at least physically speaking. That is all I can say for certain.

This different means of faster-than-light travel is unseen in the galaxy. Most in the galaxy are content to remain with hyperspace simply because there is no need to adapt, change, or evolve, and to an extent, they are right. but this is more for warfare purposes, and in war, new technologies often come about, and this inter-dimensional travel, though not my idea, is a way for me to travel. Inter-dimensional travel, in many ways, can be more or less safer than hyperspace travel. In this means of travel, there are objects of normal space to intrude the path. I can simply plot a straight course to a destination. In addition, tracking is exponentially more challenging in inter-dimensional travel as multiple planes of existence are involved. Plainly speaking, it is a new, untested, and potentially volatile new gadget for me to try. I will either die and never be seen again, or I will succeed, with a various many minor and major outcomes.

Time to try a suicide device.

"Open a portal," I say quickly.

"_Acknowledged, master," _my droid pilot says, _"entering in three...two...one...now!"_

Looking out the window of the gunner seat, I notice instead of the stars streaking and being everywhere like traditional hyperspace travel, there is instead only a white void, nothing in it. It is strange, bland, and beautiful all at once. I do not think I have seen anything like it before, and I have to ask.

"Was it successful," I inquire out loud.

"Yes," Atom says, still leaning against the door entrance, "we've entered into another dimension, and because of the rather quick jump, we're headed to Lothal."

Lothal. That planet with a lot of Empire going-ons? That outer rim planet is nothing of significance. Nobody goes there, not tourists, not Imperial Officials, and certainly not me, and that is precisely why I am going there. They are planning something. A lot of things happen where nothing happens, and that should make sense to everyone.

Never mind my incessant rambling. I do that enough. In any case, it does not take long to travel. I am guessing that inter-dimensional travel, depending on the plane of existence can yield diverse lengths of time to travel. It completely negates the distance between planets and location. It may be several seconds. It may be several minutes. It may be hours. It may even be days and more. Luckily, we will be no more than a few minutes at worst. Now the problem is that we may be detected once entering into atmosphere. We will have to engage the cloaking device immediately after exiting into normal space.

I get up from the gunner seat and make my way to the cockpit. Atom follows me despite the fact that she could disappear and reappear where I am going, but she's never been one to act like an artificial intelligence should. She's still got that organic side to her.

I settle down in the seat, my hands rubbing my forehead. My hood is still up, and my outfit is a bit scuffed from some blaster fire running through the streets. I smell worse for wear, but I am far too fatigued to think about that right now. When we find a proper means to settle, I will use the freshener and sleep.

The minutes to Lothal are like torturous moments, and I hate torture. I start beginning to think of something to keep my mind off the wait, but that does not work either. I dwell on things I should not. I think of...the ones that were most important in my life.

Enough of this. Stop thinking of the past. I will become weak by thinking about them. In fact, why should I even think of them. Attachments, family or friend, are for the weak. I am also desperate for company. Yes, desperate, not hoping. That just proves how far I have gone. I need a tether to reality or I will begin going on missions that will get more innocents killed at my hands. I could never forgive myself for a crime like that.

But who will understand me? No one, that is who. Many have tried, and all have failed? Do you know why they failed? They failed because they did not try enough. No one tries enough. Even worse, some did not believe I could ever change. Some dedication, I will say. No one has ever been able to look past Archangel. No one really knows enough about me, and I know for a fact that you will never find anyone who has even bothered to ask for my real birth name, not that I would ever want to reveal this, because that, too, would also be weakness.

Okay, I understand that I have established the weaknesses of attachments, but I'm no fool. There are many advantages and great things to come from them as well. It gives a person something to fight for. Sometimes, family can be formed from those without blood relationships. It may seem a silly notion to most, but family is the people that are willing to put their lives in front of your own, which has been a lot of people for me. Friendships can provide with a means to confide and make conversation. Everyone seeks company, well except maybe Darth Vader and the Emperor or Dark Side users in general. They are a different game entirely. In any case, what is certain is that everyone needs organic contact. Having none leads to madness and other abnormal behavioral tendencies, which is why this just became even more important to me.

The sound of something strange and alien led me to glance out the cockpit window to witness that we were in front of Lothal now, and the communications frequencies were going crazy with all sorts of Imperials relaying orders and such. From what I can see here, a chase likely took place. The ship spots a few pieces of debris from a destroyed TIE fighter, shot into oblivion no doubt. Whoever did this was in a major hurry, and from the reports that I am receiving via communications chatter and some various reports that Atom is hacking into, it has to be that ship that I placed that discrete beacon onto. I can activate it now to pinpoint their rough location and coordinates. I would have to trail get in close enough to sight them, but far enough away to be undetectable.

I lean towards the controls in front of me and begin to send the command to the tracker beacon. It pulses to life seconds after, sending an area to search for. It is a start for now, but a start is just that. What is the more pressing matter is what I would do if I met them. Are they the sort of people who would help anyone in trouble if possible, or did they merely create problems for the Empire for profit gains? Should I be forceful when meeting them, or pose as something else? Should I not bother at all?

I stop to think about this from all possible angles. The best way to gain the trust of anyone is to prove your worth, to show that you are a someone. Either that, or you are forced to work together for mutual survival, but the former happens more than the latter. Trust, that thing that I have been somewhat short on. As much as it goes against my better instinct, if I am to actually meet with this ship's crew, I will have to trust that they will not try anything hostile. that is, if they appear to be friendly in some manner.

I get and turn to leave, stopping only to make a final note to my pilot.

"Enter hyperspace. I will prepare an escape pod for launch. You know what to do next."

"Acknowledged and understood."

So what do I do? Firstly, I enter into the armory room, staring at the wall and racks of weapons that I have neatly organized and placed. I pass by these and open the door to a separate wardrobe room containing countless numbers of costumes. Everything from pirates armor and outfits to my Mandalorian armor to casual clothes. I even obtained some Jedi outfits, as rare as they are, but wearing distinctively Jedi armor might do more harm than good, so I will have to mix-match a bit.

I decide on a black surcoat, then my heavy fuel-powered rocket boots, Then various parts of my Mando armor, but only the really necessary parts. My gauntlets stay on. After carefully inspecting myself, I pull my hood over my head and return to the hangar bay. There is a lot to do.

At this point, you've probably figured that I have a plan. I do, and it could possibly go haywire, but it is about the only plausible plan that even stands a chance at working, and that is to pose myself as a stranded survivor of a ship. I've always wanted to try this, but I've never been able to figure out what is the best way to pull this stunt off. I figure that is about as good as good can get.

I have prepared an escape pod to launch. Now that we have thrown the Imperials off our trail, we can now enter hyperspace Once in hyperspace, I am going to launch the escape pod with myself in it. I will sabotage all systems except for a distress beacon and some necessary life support systems. Apart from that, nothing else will remain functional. Once the pod drops back into normal space, than I will appear to be stranded and for good reason, at least I hope so.

I draw a slow breath, nervously checking my weapons. Why? I like doing it, especially doing something for the first time. All my wrist weapons and gadgets are good to go. I've got my macrobinoculars, a few throwing knives, my collapsible bow, a cantina of water, some small food rations to keep me going for a few days, my trusty short-to-long-range blaster, and my lightsaber, albeit concealed. I've also got the Force, but I do not think that to be a necessary weapon. I've also got my retractable helmet, but I don't plan to use it because at least one of them will know who wore that mask and will put the pieces together. No, a hood is rather strange enough.

"_Master, we are about the approach the coordinates. Be ready to launch the escape pod in approximately forty-five seconds."_

"Noted," I say.

"Good luck out there," Atom says, her avatar materialising next to me.

"Try not to do anything too outrageous," I warn her.

"Always the worrier," she jokes.

"For good reason," I deadpan.

I turn and enter the escape pod. I count down the seconds to launch. I sit still, savoring the stillness.

Twenty seconds left.

I extend my wrist blade on my right arm, doing a final check of the blade before retracting it. I do the same for the other blade, noting every slight scratch of the metal.

Ten seconds left.

I pull out several grenades and begin to juggle them. I do not know why I want to juggle, but I suppose that the seconds are killing me. The impatience is rising now. Any time now, and I will be.

With three seconds, I stop juggling, drop the detonators and prepare to launch.

With a hard press to the switch, the pod is jettisoned from the_ Killobyte_, and now I feel myself floating freely, and chaotically. I struggle to grab the detonators bouncing around freely. From the narrow forward viewing port, I can see the blue of hyperspace still visible. I steady myself and prepare for the most dangerous part of being in an escape pod while in hyperspace. The hull of the escape pod has likely heated to super-hot temperatures, and the slightest disturbance could end up rupturing the pod, and effectively killing me. I try to remain as still as possible. The shaking continues to get worse, and I grit my teeth, silently praying to the Force that I live, not that I believe the Force will take time to save me, but better to do it than not at all, right?

I might have taken minutes or even hours, but as I came to look at the black, I knew seconds was about right, nothing special. With that in mind, I proceed to open a series of hatches and cut some of the cables. The lights go out. I then cut some other cables. The terminals flash a warning, indicating system disconnect. That will have to be enough, but to be sure, I send a small electrical shock through the system with one of my tools.

I type in some commands to relay a distress beacon.

Now I sit, and I juggle the detonators some more…

**Space**

**Unspecified Location**

**3648 ATC**

**Sabine P.O.V**

It's been a long day, and I need the rest. Between the stuff going on with the kid and everyone else, it's no wonder that we're not just sleeping where we stand. It has certainly been an interesting day. Empire Day always is.

As I work away at my walls, thinking about the day, I suddenly hear Her over the intercom.

"_Everyone to the cockpit," she says, "we've got something on scanners."_

I groan. As if this day couldn't ever end. It'd better be really good.

**Apologies for the late chapter, but other priorities overrode this story. Again, REVIEW! Tell me the goods and bads.**

**Also, let me make a small note. I've given Archangel all of these fancy gadgets for a reason. Remember, he is a very wealthy assassin and mercenary, not to mention a master of ships and how they work. A mercenary is only as good as equipment, after all.**

**I may decide to take a break from this story. If I do not update by this coming Sunday, then I've officially taken a month-long hiatus. I've got lots to do, not to mention that other stories are in high demand.**

**Hope you enjoyed! Remember, freedom is the right of all people!**


	11. Chapter 11: My Name is

Chapter 11: My Name is…

**In space**

** Outer Rim**

**3648 ATC **

**Kanan P.O.V**

The sound of Hera over the intercom jolted me into a very alert state. Usually, she doesn't use the intercom unless it's during a space battle or when there's trouble brewing. This time, it was most definitely the case that something was up, but I didn't know what. I stand from my meditation spot in my room and begin to quickly run towards the cockpit where everyone else is probably going to right about now.

As I pass through the hall, I look over my shoulder to see Sabine and Zeb are already at. As I pass by the ladder leading to the turrets, Ezra came down the ladder leading to the upper turret. He looked sort of happy for the first time that I had ever known him, and not the kind of happy that has sarcasm or slyness, but actual genuine happiness. It was strange seeing him like this, and it sort of gave me a better outlook of him. Maybe things will get better, at least I hope so.

We all sort of rushed into the cockpit without too much hassle. At this point, it was the end of the day, and no one really wanted to do much else, but the _Ghost_ is Hera's ship, so like it or not, she can tell us to do whatever she needs or wants, because if we don't, well...she'll find a way to make us do it, and she's good at getting what she wants. That's partly why no one really chooses to argue with her. It's just best to go with whatever she says. She's got our best intentions in mind, I always remind myself, albeit, with her own style and flare to it.

"What's the situation," I ask.

"I think this is a distress beacon," Hera says, "from an escape pod, but what's got me hesitating is that it just appeared out of nowhere."

"Out of nowhere," Ezra narrowed his eyes, "nothing just appears out of nowhere."

"Which is why I'm worried," Hera continues, "the only thing that I can think of at the top of my head is that this pod came from hyperspace."

"Would an escape pod be able to survive intact like that," Zeb asked, "they're not exactly made of the most durable metals."

"Should we investigate," I ask her carefully, "see if it's anyone we can help."

"Probably," Hera answered, "and if it isn't, then I'm sure we can deal with it. After all, it's just a pod. It can't hold that many people."

"Are we sure we want to do this," Sabine inquired, "this seems a bit strange somehow."

"Sabine," Hera scolded, "better that we help than not at all."

"Doesn't mean that whoever's in there's going to be grateful," Sabine muttered.

"We'll take our chances," I concluded. "grab some gear, but don't have weapons in-hand. I don't want to cause a potential fight."

Nobody argued and simple went with my request, quickly making their way back to their rooms to grab their equipment, who stayed behind to watch, arms folded. He didn't really have any weapons on him besides his energy sling, not really a weapon, more like a useful tool. I, too, go back to my quarters to get my lightsaber as well as my blaster. I hope I won't need to use it, but it's better to be safe than sorry. I've got a team to protect, and I'll do it with my life if I must.

I'm the first to get back, Sabine close by followed by Zeb and Ezra. Without saying anything, I lead the way to the airlock, our footsteps echoing through the halls.

"_Pod is in visual range," _Hera said over the intercom, _"and the distress beacon is still sounding."_

Stationed at the airlock, we wait for the green light to enter. Ezra and Sabine are standing in front of me. The boy doesn't really seem all that interested, seemingly impatient. I don't know what to think. It's been a long day for him, and he probably didn't want to do anything else for the rest of the day. Sabine, on the other hand, looked very much alert. She's been like that lately: edgy, impulsive, and still somewhat disappointed in not being about to know our bigger plans, but it's not the time to tell, not yet. And Zeb, he hasn't changed a bit. He's still ready to bash some heads together, but not before getting a good enough look at the situation. The Lasat may be a bit childish sometimes, but he's got a good head on him. He'll be fine.

A few minutes pass, and the silence in the air is still around. Everyone now seems a bit edgy. Maybe the suspense is killing them. Frankly, I don't know what to say. We've seen a lot in our time together. We'll be fine. After all, it's just an escape pod.

**00000000000000000000**

**Archangel P.O.V.**

I do some more juggling. It is fun. It requires a bit of skill. It is something that few people ever have the skill to do, and rightfully so, because it is nothing of importance, but for me, it is crucial to combat, in the sense of control, timing, and balance. These factors are what guide me to do this simple trick. Why do I juggle? Well I have nothing to really attend to. All of the pod systems have been sabotaged, and I made certain that it is anything but my work. If the crew inspects it, all they will know is that it was damaged, and the most likely cause that they will attribute it to is some sort of outside force, so I am fine in this respect.

I stop juggling, placing the detonators back into my belt. I take out a coin instead, reflecting on its importance. I do not know why, but I always have this strange feeling that a coin will do some good for me some day, but not as money, but for something else. If you try to ask me what it is that purpose is, then I would tell you I am still seeking the answer for that. I simply trust my instincts and hold onto the coin. Some day, I will understand what to use it for.

In the meantime. I can sense through the Force that a ship is approaching. This may be the last time that I see my ship the _Killobyte_ for a good long while, and having fully studied the vessel that this crew flies in, I know there is little room and that more must be shared, but that does not bother me. I am use to using so little anyway. Sometimes, I would prefer to sleep next to a crate or against the wall rather than on a bed. Those places allow me to instantly attack anyone who tries to ambush me in my sleep.

Hold a moment. Sleep, that word comes crashing down on me. When was the last time that I got a proper amount of sleep? I do not know, but it has to have been at least five years. Some people say that it takes eight or more hours to be fully rested, but I can get four hours of sleep and feel fully awake mentally and recharged physically. Maybe it's the Rakata technology that allows me to sustain longer, or my training, or both. I do not plan on using up any more space than I need to.

The primary reason I have studied this ship is to be more helpful to the crew. Every ship member must contribute, and I am fully capable of doing so. I merely require the permission to do so. I have a fully thorough and detailed schematics of the ship down the the composition of the ship. Anything I do not know on the fly, I can obtain, but I will have to do this is alone less the crew suspects that I somehow have been spying on them for a while.

The sound of metal against metal comes to my ears, and I position myself against the wall of the escape pod, checking to make sure that I look unconscious. I've done this before, playing dead and unconscious. It is not easy, mind you, but I manage it. If this goes according to plan…

The Force instantly quells my thoughts as I sense movement really close to me. I wish that I had a mask to cover my face and not just my hood, but I guess a hood will have to do. I just hope that my hood stays on.

I focus on clearing my mind, and soon enough, I can concentrate on being as still as a stone. Leaving the fate of my life in the hands of complete unknowns is tantamount to an act of death to me, but I remember why I even bothered to go along with this ridiculous plan in the first place. The finer details of the future were already in the making, and even already in motion. This is merely a ways for me to retain my sanity so that I may continue on. That is all there is. If I make friends, at least I hope to, then all the better.

**00000000000000000000**

**Sabine P.O.V.**

Tense. That's all I'm feeling right now. There's just something about this that rubs me wrong. I'm not saying that it has to be all bad, but it always helps to stay on my guard a lot. After the past few missions, we've got to tread more lightly than we've ever had to before. The Imperials no doubt are out for our blood after what we did. Maybe they even posted a bounty for our capture. who know, because I certainly don't.

The sound of metal hitting each other tells me that the pod's been attached. I keep my hands at my side, ready to pull my blasters. I nod to Kanan, then look to the kid, who just flashes a smile and a wink. I want to roll my eyes, but I just keep it to myself. At least some things don't change.

Kanan is quick to unlock the door.

The first thing that comes to mind is the fact that the lights in the pod are dead. There's absolutely no light, except for the loose equipment, destroyed. This pod has obviously seen much better days. I step in first, carefully scanning around. Ezra brings out a flashlight in order to better help us see where we're going. The air seems a bit smokey, like something's been burning. and I see the reason as the flashlight illuminates the fried control computer on the far side as well as some damaged internal hardware, but that's not the interesting part. There are no passengers.

As Ezra shines the light, I do a double take. I grab the flashlight from him and scan a spot I hadn't looked at closely. There's someone here. I flash the light on the unmoving form. It looked like this guy got knocked unconscious, and if Hera's theory about this pod coming out of hyperspace was true, than that probably explained his state. I think it's a him. The physical form definitely looks male, but with a hood up, I can't make out much more.

He's not carrying many weapons, but I see one empty blaster holster. The other one houses a modified blaster with a scope mounted onto the top. The sides featured a glowing green, probably the color of the bolt it shot.

"Kanan," I say, "got one. Looks like he's out of it for now."

Kanan stands by me to look at our newest find. He looks critical for a moment before coming to a conclusion. He signals for Zeb to help us out.

"We'll take him with us," he said, "but we're going to have someone watch him. See if you can't find anything else."

After a minute or two of searching up and down the pod, we find little else apart from several thermal detonators. We quickly clear the pod. Zeb hauling our captive or guest, whichever sounds better.

"Hera," Kanan said over com, "we picked up one passenger. No one else. This one's unconscious."

_"Got it," _she says, _'Detaching pod."_

We pause for a moment, looking at each other. It's a normal kind of silence, sort of.

_"So what do we plan to do with this one," _Hera inquired.

"We'll see," Kanan replied, "but we need to hear his story first."

He turns to Zeb.

"Get him to the medical bay, but don't tie him down yet. We'll check to see if he's got any injuries."

"On it, boss," Zeb says, then walks away.

"So can we get back to what we were doing," Ezra asks.

I know what he wants to do. He's been watching the holo-image of his parents, and I imagine that the image is something he's going to treasure for a long time.

"Yeah," Kanan says without hesitation, "sorry for that."

"It's fine," the kid answers, "no problem."

It's strange watching Kanan and Ezra have a rather normal conversation. Those two can get on each other's nerves, but they look out for one another, even if they won't admit it.

"I guess I'll volunteer for watch duty," I speak, "you guys can rest."

"Sure thing," Zeb says, "but let me get this load off. It's very heavy."

Heavy? He doesn't look that heavy. I mean, the outfit has to be light, so anything heavy is probably his own weight, but I shrug and follow Zeb to the medical bay. As soon as he's set down, I flash the Lasat a nod before watching him go out the door. With the room quiet except for some equipment running, I decide to see what else I can find out from this guy before he wakes up.

I stand by his side on the gurney. Although the robe he's wearing is made for combat, it is certainly a very beautiful robe, very-well designed. his belt contains many pouches and equipment on it. He's wearing armor, as well, but only partly. His wrist gauntlets for one. One has a computer on it. He's also wearing some shoulder pauldrons, the right one large than the left one. making him look sort of like an arena fighter. The metal of his armor was a dark black color while his robes were more a shade of light green and white. I can't help but think I've seen this scheme before, but it doesn't really matter I guess. It's just one of those feelings of deja vu.

His head is hooded, but his face can be seen, and I look into it. It looks like a someone that doesn't look any older than me, but he's older than me, but not by much. For some reason, even unconscious, he looks like he's at war, like he can't even find peace. Three parallel scars are on his left side. Claw marks, I suspect, as for his right side, it has a tattoo, very detailed and clear. His skin tone is fair, which none of the humans on the _Ghost _are, even Kanan. I wonder what his eyes look like.

I realize that I'm staring at his face. I shake my head before leaning back against the wall. I'm cool. Guess there's nothing to worry about. Nothing to worry about. Just another day in guarding someone. It's not exactly the most exciting thing ever, but no one else wants to, and I've got time and energy to spare.

Then something makes a sound, then a sharp breath. I quickly get up and see him already sitting on the edge of the gurney, his face now unseen under his hood, except for his mouth and chin. His eyes, although I could see them, were not that visible. I couldn't say what color they were. The light in the room served to only make them bright.

He seems to completely ignore me, watching over his own form. At this point, I'm not really sure what to do. Should I call for the others? They've already probably gone to sleep or retired for the night. Why should I be concerned. It's just one person, and he's on our ship.

I turn to look at him again, and this time, he's looking at me, a small tilt of his head. He says nothing, and stays still. It's kind of creepy, but I keep my nerve. He hasn't done anything so far, but I'm not about to take chances.

"Am I dead," he asks first.

"Um...no," I say confused.

"Then I might as well be," he says without emotion, "I have no purpose. They are all dead."

It sounded sort of like a sob story, but when he spoke, there was absolutely no emotion, and his voice sounded really mysterious, and distant. Hard to know exactly what's on his mind.

"Who are you." I ask.

He turns away, his head looking down at the floor. As he is about to answer, the door opens and Hera comes in. She's surprised for a moment before speaking away.

"This is our guest," she inquires, "guess he wasn't as unconscious as we thought."

He turns to look at Hera, giving her the same look as he did to me. It's like he doesn't even know what other faces to make. Then, he sighs, it can be heard.

"I only wish the same could be said for the lives I could not save," he says, a hint of self-disgust.

Hera and I turn to face each other. I silently communicate my question on what to do. She tells me that maybe now isn't the time to wake the others up. Best that we deal with it. So Hera steps forward and takes over for me.

"What happened to you," she asks, her voice as friendly as possible.

He turns his head to face us, and his eyes keep moving to watch both of us. For a long moment, he seems to be thinking about what to say or if he should say anything at all.

"The ship," he says, shaking his head, "it was destroyed. So many deaths and I did nothing."

We really didn't know what to say.

"It does not matter now," he says dismissively, "that was past events, and I must turn to the future. I will mourn later."

"Anything we can do," Hera questions.

"I would not know. I have nowhere left to go. Friends are now a distant memory, and family? More so."

Okay, so guy went down with ship, and he's got no friends, and no one to go to. This is a tough situation, and this is the kind of thing I wouldn't bother with normally. Hera, on the other hand, is great at this.

"We could drop you off somewhere," Hera offered.

"It would not matter where I went," he said, "I have nowhere important to go to. I have nothing left, and I have yet to think of a way to...redirect my focus."

Should I feel bad for this guy? Maybe, but he's being really evasive with us, but at the same time, I know it's the truth, and Hera knows it too, so I guess we're caught.

Hera frowned, thinking it over, and I do too, and I can only think of one other option.

I pull Hera to the side to ask her.

"You think that we could take him in," I ask, "I mean, it's not like we've got a lot to lose anyway. He's got few weapons to begin with."

"I agree," Hera continued, "but Kanan might not be so open to this. He's got reason to be given what's happened."

We both glance to the side where our guest is just waiting patiently for us to make a decision.

"Well, tell Kanan that we'll watch him," I say, turning back to her, "besides, what's the worst that can happen?"

"A lot," Hera said, "but I'm willing to give him the benefit of a doubt."

So it was decided that we'd allow him to remain on the _Ghost_, although neither of us were going to let our guard down, because even if his situation was bad, he was still an unknown.

We turned back to him, and he was still sitting, hood down, and arms crossed. He inclined his head to us to signify that he was paying attention.

"Welcome aboard my ship, the_ Ghost_," Hera began, "You're welcome to stay aboard."

He unfolds his arms, then reaches into one of his belt punches, retrieving some gold pieces. He tosses them to us and I catch them. I count it up quickly, handing it to Hera.

"Thank you," Hera offers, "but this isn't necessary."

"It is merely a token of appreciation," he says. "and I will remain here until you deem me capable of touring the ship."

"One final thing," Hera says, "what do we call you."

He contemplates, flexes his hand, then speaks a single word.

"Kaidon," he replies simply

Hera nods, and I do as well. I turn to Hera, motioning to my room, and she acknowledges me. So we both turn to leave, ready to end the day.

**00000000000000000000**

**Archangel P.O.V.**

Interesting. That is really all I can say for the moment.

That had been an easy, convincing them to let me aboard. It helps that I can speak really about anything and make it sound more or less the same.

I had told them the story about losing a crew, and I hadn't made up a word of it, but it merely happened at a different. I was hesitant to tell. That memory was just too painful to relive. I did not come here to pour my emotions and feelings out. I came here to make connections and to make sure that I can remain functional as a living being.

What else can I say? Well, I could see that clearly that female Mandalorian was probably younger than myself, but not by much. That Twi'lek, on the other hand, looked to be ten years older or so, not old, but certainly more experienced than the human. They both looked to each other a lot, giving me the impression that they were the only females aboard the ship.

I took note of the attire that they wore; the Mandalorian's armor was painted with some rather flashy and unique colors and some symbols. She must have done that personally because her hair looks like she did it herself. She sort of looked like a person with something to prove, or something to show, but maybe not in an arrogant way, but more like trying to prove her worth.

The other one wore a simple flight suit, nothing really glamorous about it, but more utilitarian than anything else.

The only other thing to think about was the name I gave them. I had said "Kaidon", but that is not my name. It is a nickname that I was given by someone, and I simply thought it would do. My birth name died when my parents…no, not now. I cannot think about them. They are gone, and nothing will change that. The past exists where I can no longer control it. End of story.

Well, I know now that I will not be resting. I guess I can occupy the time with some meditation or some other things. I expected them to take my blaster and search me for weapons, but they did not, and that leads me to believe that they are most likely not doing this trouble-making for credits only. They must fight for something else or a greater purpose, so I guess that means that I picked right for now, but I will see if staying here will be the best choice or not.

I close my eyes. The day has just begun

**Okay, so I lied. I suppose that now I'm at this point, going on hiatus would be stupid, so here I am.**

**As always REVIEW! These are the reason I write and write. The more there are, the mroe I'm motivated to write. As always tell me the goods and the bads.**

**In other news, I'm trying to get back on schedule with weekend updates, so hopefully, a chapter will be up on Sunday.**

**Finally, anyone care to guess what song that this whole story began around. I'll give you a hint: look at the title of the story.**

**Hope you enjoyed reading, and remember, actions speak louder than words!**

**Peace!**


	12. Chapter 12: Understanding the Enigma

Chapter 12: Understanding the Enigma

**Hyperspace**

** En Route to Tatooine**

** 3648 ATC**

** Archangel P.O.V**

I slept four hours, and still I have time to spare, so what do I do?

As soon as I can, I would like to go for a tour of the ship to know exactly where everything is and where everyone is during downtimes, and I need to only hear these things once. I do not forget things.

I would be concerned that the Mandalorian girl might recognize my voice, but then I remembered when I fought her, I had my helmet on, and my voice was synthesized so that no one could recognize me should they ever cross me as Archangel, so I checked that off as one less problematic detail to deal with. It is also good that I wore that helmet, so to this crew, I am a new face, no one they have ever seen before. Another thing to check off the list. My attire is far different than what I wore then. Then, that was full Mando gear, everything from head to toe. Now, I am wearing bits and pieces of it, and that might just be the thing will give me away, if the Mandalorian remembers, but that will merely just be Zinthrax the bounty hunter, not Archangel the terrorist.

But how long would I be able to disguise myself? Would they figure it out somehow? I had no doubt that sooner or later, they would either find something and connect the pieces, or I would do something wrong and they would find out. Would it matter if I was Archangel to them? This is what's concerned me the most. I want to believe that even with my "celebrity" status that I could still be a friend. The last thing I desire or require is special treatment due to my accomplishments and feats. I get enough of that from virtually everyone that affects my life, both in the present and in the past.

If they know me as Zinthrax, then the relationships with the crew could degrade really fast and trust could be lost in an instant. I know this from experience, and believe me, betrayal is difficult to deal with, and betrayal is precisely the reasons why I do not rely on people to help me, not until now at the very least. I would never betray anyone because firstly, it serves no useful purpose, and secondly, my allegiance does not come lightly. If I work with someone, that means I put a lot of trust into them, and anyone who breaks that trust is either dead or humiliated. Actually, those who have crossed me are both.

On the other hand, if they know me to be Archangel, there could be yet more ways they respond. They could ask to coordinate my own efforts with theirs, to which I would judge it be worthy if they provide me with their plans. If they choose to sever connections with me, I will not object, but I will always remembers allies, whether connected or not, and although friendship is suppose to work two ways, sometimes it's a one-way path for me. I still consider many people friends even when they do not see the same in me. They may think of me as they will, but that does not change my opinion of them.

I've taken all of these things into great consideration, but despite all the potential wrongs that could result, I stick by what I must do. If I was not sure about what to do, I would never will myself to come here. Everything I do is for a reason, and this one is a very important one. I will do my best, and I pray that my risk may yet benefit not only myself but that of this crew. Sounds like wishful and hopeful thinking, but I am not hopeful or wishful, I remind myself. I am realist, and blunt.

The Force tells that I should stop my musing because a person, no, people are approaching. I can sense five unique signatures closing in on me as I hone. I sigh, not really wanting to discuss much, but this was going to happen sooner or later. Gathering all of myself, both physically and mentally, I wait for them.

The door opens to their presence, or rather the presence of the human male. he looks to be in his late twenties or maybe early thirties, and seems to carry himself carefully. I do not know what his role is, but I can only guess. His hair is tied back into a ponytail

t is then that I delve deeper into the Force to detect two distinctly sensitive signatures. One is in front of me, and the other is behind him. That could mean only one thing: two of them were Force-sensitive, but how much? Were they Jedi? Would they sense me? I may have fought Jedi, but never really discovered if they knew me through the Force. I do not really know.

The second to enter was the Twi'lek. She still wore those goggles and that simple flight outfit. Looking at her again, she had taken on a new face, a new expression. I did not question it. This was a different setting, so she had a reason to be how she was.

The third to enter was a large alien. At first, I could not place it, Green eyes with black irises, light-purple skin, large physical form, taller than everyone else. I stared at him for a few moments before racking my mind for the name of the species. I thought for a few moments before realizing that it was a Lasat. They were rare due to the Imperial genocide of the race. That was another thing I truly despised about the Empire: victory at any cost, at least in those terms, but this is best saved for another discussion.

The fourth was a kid, who looked to be the youngest, no more than maybe fourteen. I really cannot say, but he is certainly the other Force-sensitive. He is dressed in an orange jumpsuit-like attire. His hair was long, just like the other human, but his was blue and not tied back, just natural. His eyes were an intense blue. Something about the kid was special beyond his obvious Force-sensitivity. Now I was intrigued. Maybe I can talk to him later.

The final one, not surprisingly, was the Mandalorian female. I look at her for a moment as well, taking in her features. She had the marks of a true warrior, but she had untapped potential. If anyone here was someone I could relate to most, it was likely yer, thought I would not discount the others. I'm sure that they all have a story or two to tell me that I may have experienced.

A moment of silence, nothing really uncomfortable, but they are all likely sizing me up, and I stare back, certain that my eyes are hidden enough so they cannot see my eye color, but visible enough for them to make eye contact. My hood covers my head and most of my face, leaving my mouth and chin clear to see. I get up from the gurney and say the first words. No point in trying to play coy.

"A most interesting bunch," I comment.

I am surprised that my Imperial accent does not give them more panics. Did I ever mention that I speak with an accent? I find something more intriguing in their accent than that of the ones I normally hear. It just sounds a bit more pleasing to my ears, so I mastered the accent and I speak it. Strange fact, but a true one nonetheless.

"Who are you," the human said bluntly.

"I am the whatever you want me to be," I respond honestly, "whether it be your friend, enemy, ally, or contact, think of me what you will."

"That doesn't answer my question," he argues.

"I have no reason to lie to you," I explain, "and I have no reason to cause any sort of harm or to kill you or your crew."

"Maybe not," he said, "but you're an unknown, and Hera's told me that you want to join us."

I cross my arms.

"I have nothing to return to. I might as well be a dead man. I have nothing to lose now, not even friends, and besides, helping people is something I am familiar with."

That seemed to catch the human off-guard. He turns to the Twi'lek, the one I'm guessing is Hera. The name somehow suggests wisdom and a sageness, and I can see why. She's got that look that she knows more than she cares to let on. I should tread lightly around her. If there's anyone you do not want to toy with, it is likely her.

They exchanged a few nods and a few stares that are likely signs of communicating silently. I wait, and I watch, but nothing more.

"Do you even know what we do," the man asked, "we're not exactly popular these days."

I might laugh if I had the ability to do so. They clearly have no idea the dangers I have been through. At this point, anything that they are all doing is likely nothing that I cannot deal with.

"You might as well be performing a suicide mission. Low survival chances do not concern me," I say quietly, "but helping those in need is concerning."

"How would you even know what we do," the man asked, "you're putting a lot of trust into us."

"I have no reason to distrust you nor have you given me reason to mistrust you," I say, almost whispering, "but I can deduce that you certainly do not care for the Empire. You all might as well be celebrities in the outer rims here. News can travel rapidly and I know what it is that you do. Is not hurting the Empire and helping the people of galaxy one in the same goal?"

I am not certain if my logic is making sense, but they seem to be a bit less careful and more lenient. I can tell that at least we have an understanding if nothing else.

"Either way," I continue, "I can help you. I am more than capable in both. All I ask is for a chance, and nothing more."

Now I am a true fool. If I was truly without resources, then the fate of my life would be in their hands. Now that I think of it, I suppose that maybe holding back on my true resources, but like I said to them before, I have nothing, which is true. My resources certainly are not much use without anyone using them, but they need not know about my resources until a few missions together, if they choose to accept.

Their voices, although hushed, can be heard somewhat.

"I think we should take him," Hera said.

"Yeah," the Mando agreed, "the least we can do is give him a chance."

"I don't know," the Lasat spoke, "I'm not really on board with this yet."

"For once, I agree with Zeb," the kid chimed in, "we're already giving him special treatment. I don't trust him."

"Ezra, I get that, but what kind of crew are we if can't even give him a chance."

"Kanan," the Twilek says to the taller human, "just give him a chance. If nothing else, we've got nothing to lose, and he's got nothing left."

"You believe his story?"

"I do," Hera said, "and I know when people are truthful."

Alright, some controversy with what to do. Two are hesitant, two have no objections, and their leaders seems to be weighing both sides. I have turned my head away in order to make it look that I am not listening.

"He doesn't have many weapons," the Mando said, "and he's certainly not strange in any way."

"I beg to differ," the kid objected. "he sound like an Imperial when he talks."

"Yeah, well so does Zeb," the girl chided. "some people just speak like that. Doesn't mean that they're Imperial."

My eyes watch the girl. She sort of understands, but if only she knew the half of it.

"Settle down, Sabine," the man Kanan said, "I get it."

I suppose that meant that he had made a decision on what to do.

Kanan stood at attention, his posture still not changing. I stand at my full height to meet him. He is taller than I am, but only by a small amount, perhaps by a few centimeters or more. I still remain unmoving. He closes his eyes for a moment, seemingly trying to finalize this mentally, kind of like putting down the last bit of hesitance in his mind. This amount of decisiveness, while understandable, is just a little bit excessive, but maybe they have a right to be like this. After all, stealing the Empire's plans for the Outer Rim Territories is not a walk through the industrial area.

"Alright," Kanan said, "we'll take you in. Think of it as a test."

"Then you should know this," I deadpan, "I will not only pass the test, but I will exceed it beyond expectation."

"Certainly not lacking for confidence," the Lasat mumbled audibly.

"I simply am knowledgeable about my capabilities," I say, "but enough about me. How can I help? What are my duties?"

"Well," Hera began, "I think for now, you won't have anything to do, although we should set you up in a quarter."  
>"That...will not be necessary," I say, "I do not require a bunk to sleep. I can sleep against a wall or against a crate."<p>

"That wouldn't exactly be fair to you," Kanan said, "we'll set you up with a bunk."

"...thank you," I say forcefully. "but I do not wish to impose. I want to contribute more than take."

I certainly did not expect them to help me like that, and I do not want to seem like I am a burden, but they seem like a crew with a good soul.

"Nonsense," the Twi'lek said, "it's no problem."

She then began to grab arm. I should resist, but how would that make me look if I did? So I go along with it, and allow myself to be dragged by her. I do not even stop to look back at the others assembled. I wonder if I got more than I bargained for.

What have I found? The same old fears.

**00000000000000000000**

**Sabine P.O.V**

Why do I get the feeling that we've met before?

I don't know what it is that getting my nerves like this, but I've felt like we've met somewhere before. Don't know when or where or how or why, but my guts tell me as much.

So what do I think of him? Well, he's not like Ezra in any way. He's sort of like that quiet kind of guy, the kind that doesn't say much, but when he does, he says it speaks many volumes. That kind of guy. He's also the kind that probably doesn't have really normal interactions with people, not that that's a bad thing, but it's not easy to work with someone like that.

I don't trust him yet, but I don't have any reason to not like him, and that's the problem. The hood part is the part that I'm worried about. Too mysterious and too shadowy, not really what I like. I like things in the open where I can see them. Secrets and I don't get along well because they can end up messing with life in ways that I'm not eager to experience.

Hera, by contrast seems to have made up her mind about trusting him, Kaidon was what he said his name was? It's not a name I've heard often. I might have heard it maybe once in my time, but I can't be too sure. I don't know how she can know these things, but who are we to try and disagree? We'll just keep it to ourselves for now.

"I dunno about this, Kanan," Zeb says, "can we trust him?"

"Hera trusts him," Kanan said, "and I've learned to trust her judgement, so for now, yes."

"Even I didn't get special treatment like that when I came," Ezra commented,

"Maybe that's because you two are completely different when it comes to meeting strangers," I say annoyingly, "he's not on for a few hours and he's already asking for things to help with."

"This is another situation entirely," Kanan argues, "so there's really no comparison here."

"Still doesn't mean that I trust him," Ezra mumbled.

"Give him a chance, Ezra," Kanan said, "After all, I gave you a chance."

"We all did," I add, "and he's getting the same chance as you did."

"Anyway," Kanan said, "we'll be able to see what he can do on our next mission, which is today."

That caught me a little bit off guard. I turn to Kanan and give a questioned surprised glare. We all do, and he notices. Typical him to drop the ball on us like this. Sometimes, I wish that he didn't do all the planning. His plans still aren't getting any better.

"Look, it just came in today, nothing that we can't handle. We've got at least seven hours before then."

"Where are we going exactly," Zeb asked cautiously.

"Tatooine," Kanan says casually.  
>"Can't wait to hear what we're doing today," I say sarcastically.<p>

**00000000000000000000**

**Hera P.O.V.**

"So anyway," I say, "you ever need to find me or Kanan, we're here."

He nods slowly, but surely. I continue to lead him on to the cargo bay, where I slide down the ladder and he follows suit. I can tell that he's tense, taking extra care not to disturb anything that he's not permitted to touch, like the galaxy will end if he does so. It's sort of amusing to laugh at. I haven't seen that kind of mannerism in a long time: composed, careful, and hesitant.

It was stranger because just before I dragged him along, he seemed so confident of his abilities in himself, so maybe this isn't the thing that he knows too well, I guess. It doesn't help that he keeps his hood on all the time. Apart from his mouth, and the bottom of his nose, only his eyes can be seen.

But somehow, those eyes can be easily read. From what I can see based on this and his unreadable expression. Whatever happened, I can only imagine. The death of his team probably isn't doing him any good either, although I notice that he keeps his head up and pays attention to me when I speak.

And speaking of that, I decide to tell him that we're having a mission and that before we spoke to him, we decided to use this as a test.

"Just so that you know," I say, "we're heading to Tatooine in a few hours. We're on a mission, and we could use your help with that."

"Acknowledged and understood," he says quietly.

He then falls silent, waiting for me to speak. Alright, so that's another thing to be working on: more speaking and less silence. This kind of silence is the kind that doesn't bode well with me.

**The beginning of a uneasy journey. Archangel has only ended a phase of his life, but endings are merely beginnings, waiting to be born.**

**Tatooine is prime for many things to happen, and when you mix the center of galactic crime and scum and villainy with Archangel, well, I leave that to imagination.**

**Don't forget to REVIEW! These are the reasons I keep writing. The more, the more motivation I'll get. Compared to other stories, it's a slow and gradual process, but I'm still here.**

**Expect chapters to be more or less on schedule. Hope you enjoyed reading. Can you spot the song reference and the artist?**

**Peace!**


End file.
